


Stellium

by seekingjets



Series: Azimuth [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Megatron, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mech Preg, Not Beta Read, Pregnancy complications, Seeker culture, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Transformers Spark Bonds, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unresolved Romantic Tension, carrier protocols, sire protocols
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-10-05 15:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17328020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingjets/pseuds/seekingjets
Summary: It was one time. Apparently that was all it took.---Starscream sparks Megatron. Megatron isn't telling.





	1. Cramped Spaces

**Author's Note:**

> This was due to a thought I had on twitter, where it just seems more beneficial for the bigger mech in a relationship to carry...also how Starscream would react to such news and the trouble that causes for the Decepticon faction.

\--

It was one time.

It was only one time solely because the seeker had looked so appealing, kneeling between his own spread legs. Delicate claws stretched wide and bright over the inner seams of intimate paneling. A deceptively peaceful blue beckoning a reaction while Megatron could only huff and rumble warmly where he was laid out on their makeshift berth. A mess from pulled blankets and hastily thrown supplies which were suitable by Starscream’s whining standards.

This situation was exactly the reason Megatron usually chose NOT to join Starscream on quiet missions. They always fell together like this, scrambling for purchase on armor. Mouths and servos leaving scraps and dents as they worked one another over. Starscream’s wicked smile only egging Megatron on when he would pause and consider how absolutely _stupid_ it was to trust that just because he was inside his treacherous second...that the seeker wouldn’t still pull a knife.

Yet, Starscream never did. So far. The thought only made him push harder into the leaner frame until fine legs hooked like a vice around his torso and Megatron thought: if he could simply frag the cruel brat into submission he would actually be able to sleep that night. Their _royal quarters_ no more than a supply closet on a mercenary vessel.

Of course Starscream always liked to turn things around, such as that night. Purring with the length of his braided plates, soft vibrations. Teasing down the revving warmth of a long-untouched array, guarded by a panel which felt exposed even now. The seeker’s gaze casting them in red light and heat where Megatron felt himself exhale only sputtering sounds as a heavy body turned - betraying his own standards in curiosity.

“Just once.” Starscream pleaded, thin little mouth which can produce so much noise delving to clip the edge of Megatron’s insignia. The sight of dark metal bowing to the brand sending a thrill up Megatron’s wavering thoughts. “You’re spent, let me…”

“I’ll be reset momentarily.” He dismissed and tried to bring the seeker back to his chest, like earlier after Starscream’s elegant and shuddering form had cried out and collapsed across his frame. Wings high and fluttering at the crawling waves of overload spilled across them both in a messy display. Starscream hated being messy. It was only in rough tumbles in the dark such as this that Megatron could witness his seeker, spread and moaning, taking pleasure in the mess left to spill down sleek thighs and damp mouths.

“You always say that and you always fall into recharge.” Starscream mocked carefully, mouth tracing a line across Megatron’s abdominal division, glossa dark in the poor light and Megatron’s hips jerk in response. Wondering how it might feel… “Don’t you trust me?”

“Absolutely not.” Grins with optics half shuttered and the sharp slap across his torso is unexpected - but drives his lower body up to knock into Starscream mouth.

“Megatron!” Hisses, a mixture of insult and whine, and Megatron had never seen his Second like this before. Begging, but determined as his focus fell lower than the spike casing, currently retracted, but tacky from Starscream’s earlier _ride_. Murderous little claws stroking in long, lazy patterns up Megatron’s thighs. “Please.”

Megatron has definitely never heard Starscream say _Please_ before.

Nor has he seen such open delight when finally he granted permission by the shifting of a cover. Starscream’s complex mouth the first to brush such delicate array in uncounted years. It took little more than the first tender suckling against a pulsing nerve (Megatron’s helm slamming back into the wall with a sharp cry) for Starscream to get his way the rest of the evening…

It was only once.

They regrouped with the Nemesis that next day. Starscream the same level of smug as they returned to their faction, though Megatron felt his wings were held a little too high considering the last night’s events. But they had always been like this, flaunting in the smallest ways how they laid claim to one another when such did occur. Ways to make the other bristle in embarrassment or memory. A war, like everything else in their lives, to see who faltered first. Perhaps their ongoing rendezvous every so often was the true reason he never got around to finally eliminating the brat. More trouble than he was worth, or so Megatron liked to convince himself every time the seeker smiled just a little too proudly in his direction.

\---

It was one time. It was only one time…

Despite this, Soundwave still watches him with a look of judgement that would bring gods to flinch.

“Starscream.” Soundwave proclaims and Megatron feels he should be insulted by the lack of question in their tone.

“You assume so quickly?” Rumbles back, but Soundwave’s empty expression speaks volumes. “Yes. It would be Starscream.” Megatron confirms and there’s no reaction from his intelligence officer or Hook who seems far too calm for how he stares at the readouts. Optics wide at the magnified screen of shadow and sparklings.

Sparklings. More than one.

“Status.” Soundwave takes command as Megatron fights the urge to scrape a thumb at his chest plate which has felt bulkier as of late. Now it makes sense. In recent weeks a bizarre illness had taken him. Unsettled tanks and processing glitches. His fuel consumption had taken a strange turn, energy diverted to unknown protocol. He would not show signs of weakness before his soldiers, but the first shift where he could not keep his optics online as waves of spiraling vertigo overtook his processor...Soundwave didn’t need to drag him to Hook. He walked.

Megatron could only pray Starscream and other power-hungry wretches had not noticed his slip. At least, he’d thought before the cause was revealed, he would have time to build up defense against Starscream while his second thwarted any lesser usurpers. He was at least good for something at the foot of his throne.

“Two confirmed, so far…” Hook answered, hands moving across the holo-display. Megatron sours by the image of a subordinate casually examining his inner chambers. “There could be more.”

“I’m hardly a breeder.” Megatron scowls, but felt greatly judged by the two now as they glance from each other back to the display.

“Well, my Lord, as you are greater in every way…” Hook was treading carefully, Megatron wasn’t certain if he appreciated the effort. “So too is your natural disposition to survive and…”

“Megatron highly suited for carrier.” Soundwave interrupts, sparing them all the glitchy lesson. “Strong core. Highly functioning.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Sneers and thinks back to the evening which caused this horrid problem. Starscream's face buried beneath his chest which was as far as the little body could reach where it paired inside Megatron’s own. Soundwave flinches, Megatron finds satisfaction in that. “My base model is a miner, heavy lifting and cheap.”

“But Sir,” Hook offers, raising the display to a curved screen which overtook part of the suite. “You’re hardly a miner any longer.” Two sparklings swim in the cavity of his core. Brilliant tendrils connecting the bouncing pinpricks of light to his own life force. They knock into one another and merge, separate and pull against Megatron’s spark as a swell of discomfort builds in his system. A reaction from their playful dance. Seeing new life on the screen feels too distant and Megatron once again fights a want to brace his chest with his servo.

“What are the options?” At this, Soundwave manages to look surprised, though it is short lived and almost a shameful thing.

“They’re too young to have triggered the alloy-collection. Emergence is a long way off.” Hook picks up on Megatron’s meaning finally. “If we reroute your energy consumption, starve them out, they will naturally reabsorb into your spark in due time. No fuss, though it might be exhausting.” The engineer looks to Soundwave for validation, but the telepath seems perfectly fine in stillness and quiet. Watching Megatron with the slightest tilt to their mask.

“Knowing Starscream’s _habits_ ,” Megatron dares to ask. “Why has this not been a problem for him?” Of course they all know what Megatron really means. If procreation is possible even so far from their Golden Age - why hasn’t Starscream been burdened with his heirs after the many years of infrequent pairing? The possibilities make him ill.

“Starscream’s systems wouldn’t allow such a thing,” Hook suggests. “Seekers are wired for maximum self preservation and would actively reject anything which might slow them down or weaken them. From what I’ve observed their breeding instincts practically go offline during wartime, due to the risk involved.”

“Then what does that say about me?” Megatron warns with a growl building from his engines.

“Megatron. Superior.” Soundwave answers swiftly.

\---

“Are you sick?” Starscream curls his voice around Megatron’s shoulder, leaning against the throne’s back. “Are you dying?”

“Don’t sound so hopeful.” Megatron rolls his shoulder to relieve himself of claws resting on his pauldron, wanting space between himself and the seeker who - as expected - practically ran to bother him upon his return to the bridge. Their faction working diligently under the heavy gaze of their commanders.

“You told Soundwave.” Snips, moving to lean a sharp hip against the arm of the throne, arms crossed wearing a petulant sulk like a crown.

“Soundwave is reliable in matters of privacy.” Megatron ignores the strange heat emanating from the seeker’s presence. Moving against a sudden want to lean towards him, allow his arm to brush the red of a hip. Something stirring his chest. And for all his years of building a fortress against Starscream’s charm, it seems wasted when the brat flutters wings in his direction. A curved smile and flattering tone tracing Megatron’s gaze.

“Don’t you trust me?” He purrs and Megatron is violently thrust back to the night weeks upon weeks ago. Where he allowed this viper to enchant him, grasp his thighs and sink inside him with a look of unfettered victory across a heated face. It had been a lovely moment...ruined by the morning where neither acknowledged their time spent with more than a sneer or bolstering huff.

“I would say, as far as I can throw you, but I can throw you pretty damn far.”

“You used to be fun.” Starscream sighs, attention taken by an approaching subordinate. His Second moving forwards to handle the report in guise of being helpful...when really Megatron knows Starscream jumps at the opportunity to stand between Megatron and his faction. To pretend he holds just as much power…

The two swimming sparks beneath layers of armor and all but invulnerable form would give him too much power, Megatron thinks. Servos grip the arms of the throne, watching the sharp mouth work it’s poison. When occupied, Starscream is a beautiful soldier and a terrifying force to bear the Decepticon brand. Only tolerable when leashed by distractions and spoiled.

But give him an inch, take your eyes off him for too long, his brand of chaos could easily rip them into pieces. Megatron couldn’t risk that. Could almost imagine the disgust on his seeker’s face if informed he was responsible for the things growing inside his most-despised leader. Starscream obeyed because the Decepticon cause suited his own...not out of any loyalty to it's leader. What reason would he have to care for this new life shared between them? Elite-brat.

“You’re staring.” Starscream stood before him, hip cocked and claw resting at the pleasing curve where Megatron’s gaze is caught. A new look blossoms over the terror’s face, one of ignorant delight. Getting the wrong idea while Megatron has no chance to correct him before: “Of course you’re staring, pathetic.”

Megatron’s lip curls, his certainty that Starscream would not take the news kindly only confirmed by the haughty dismissal of the incorrect assumption. Even though they have shared one another countless times before, always a game to pretend it never happened. For both their sake.

“Get to work Starscream.” He grunts out and the seeker flashes wings proudly as he exits, hips swaying more than necessary until half the bridge was distracted by confusion or interest.

Megatron more certain now that his decision on the fate of these fractures of his spark...was entirely uncertain still.

\---

He was growing.

That was unexpected.

Hook warned that they were nearing a cut off for when they could reset systems, deny the growing sparks energy - stunt growth and return them to Megatron’s core. In the meantime he’d allowed them to remain unchallenged, to grow as they would with increase of his rations hidden from his soldiers. It didn’t feel right, Megatron had never taken more than he needed to survive, but Soundwave had calculated the increase and he accepted bitterly. Cursing at the dull gray of his chestplate when alone in his habsuite - informing them it would not last for long.

He fed them, only to keep himself steady during the day. No more.

But he was growing. “Swelling” was a better word. Bulkier in his torso where proto-metal seemed to tighten, grow thick with an additional layer that Hook claimed was entirely natural. He was heavier, stronger in misstep. He shattered a console in conversation with Shockwave and snapped a datapad in half without thought mid-meeting.

Despite his efforts to conceal the crumbling device, Soundwave and Starscream noticed. The latter being the last he wanted aware of a change, but he felt it. Starscream’s careful watch like a blade tip tickling his neck. He scowled more often at the seeker, denied him the casual nearness Starscream had carved for himself over the years. No more lingering on the dais overlooking the bridge, no more sitting close during high command gatherings. It was frustrating enough to have lost control over his own body, let alone the sickening lurch of his own spark whenever the seeker was near.

Watching him as if he could see right through the armor - see the things HE created on a sloppy passionate night.

Stupidity on his part allowed this, he would not make the same mistake of letting Starscream that close again.

“Starscream, uninformed?” Soundwave brought him work and the additional fuel on time after third shift began. The safest time for the halls to be mostly cleared and nosy lurkers would be busy elsewhere.

“And he will remain so.” Megatron assumed, trying to focus now on the scattered documents and emergencies which were better suited for his attention. Not the swirling life inside him that had grown so rapidly he felt them when they moved. The Right pulling at the tethers while the Left tried to burrow - and often caused Megatron to upheave his tanks. Wretched brats, just like their sire.

“When will the procedure take place?” Soundwave asks, lingering center of the room - Megatron wonders why _Starscream_ of all mechs was the one he fell to when certain desires required satisfaction. Soundwave was a much better match, more his type: quiet.

And not for the first time Megatron considered that he would never know with Soundwave if it were a mutual want - or if the officer was merely supplying a need for their commander. With Starscream at least, when he begged and opened himself up willingly: Megatron knew the seeker wanted him.

“Unsure, there hasn’t been time.”

“I can arrange it.” Soundwave nodded. “Schedule will accommodate.”

“It’s fine, Soundwave. I’ll get to it.”

“Tomorrow you will be available.”

“Leave it be.”

Soundwave produces a noise, a communication. “I will inform Hook to expect you---”

“Stop!” Megatron has his hand outstretched towards Soundwave’s collar, stopping just before contact as the telepath doesn’t flinch. In fact they look like they expected it. “You’re just as slithering as Starscream.” Megatron remarks and lets the hand fall back to his side, suddenly weary as twin things shift inside.

“Efficiency in decision making, priority.” Soundwave explains without a motion. “Starscream should be made aware.”

“You’re on his side?” Megatron grunts, though there are no sides. There can’t be until Starscream is told.

“Negative.”

“Then why should he be informed? I’m the one doing all the work.” He goes to tap his chest and pauses, wondering if even this slightest disturbance might harm the sparklings below. Hook assured him very little could hurt them, at least nothing that wouldn’t put Megatron’s own life in danger. Still he hesitated, still he felt softer. “He would probably run, or demand I terminate them to spare him the insult of sparking a _grounder_.”

“Possibly.” Soundwave so rarely deals in uncertainties, Megatron can’t imagine how painful the word felt to them. “Regardless of Starscream’s input. What do you _want_?”

Megatron dismisses Soundwave too quickly after, not wanting to answer the question, and under no order to. Let him be childish, drinking the additional ration in the lonely of his room. Unable to think past the occasions he held Starscream under the truce of mutual desire. He’d kissed Starscream after the seeker sloppily expelled his overload into Megatron’s body. It had been careful, raw as they found new ways to torture each other in the cramped space. Starscream’s claws cradled his jaw with unknown reverence - and Megatron had slept soundly with the other’s weight curled on his chest.

“If only your sire were so kind outside of debauchery.” He grouses to the lights which seem to respond to the memory, spinning so Megatron has to lay down on his floor until they settle. The Left, he swears, gives a pulse of comfort - but Megatron chooses not to acknowledge it.

\---

“What a waste of my time!” Starscream moves as though to hurl the reports from off his side of the table. Stomping heels into the floor where vibrations reach Megatron.

Ignoring Starscream is a sport. One he is currently failing.

“You complain when I do not include you in such things - then complain when I do.” Mutters over his own building tension swirling in the back of his helm. Cranial sensors flaring at every sharp noise from the seeker’s. He wishes he could stuff something in his mouth, shut him up, but his thoughts turn traitorous and its best not to think about Starscream. Or his mouth...or his tongue…

“Why don’t you leave the boring work to Shockwave?” Starscream continues complaining, and it’s possible the true source of his distress is their solitude in the war room. Table of reports and data gathered from multiple raids in recent weeks. Eager divisions rushing to prove their worth to the flagship. Megatron needing to make the final say on multiple projects which would demand greater resources than he often permitted.

“THESE are Shockwave’s reports.” Explains, optics low on words and graphs and noisy language he simply can’t translate into anything logical past a throbbing pain in his head. “I invited YOU to assist ME in reviewing them.”

“Shockwave’s?” Starscream’s voice takes an unexpected cheer and that catches Megatron’s attention. Forcing him to look up from bleary lines and find absolute _joy_ in the other’s face. “I get the final say in Shockwave’s experiments?”

Megatron opens his mouth to deny such, explain that it wasn’t so simple...but Starscream’s delight was astonishing. It also made the seeker sound better. Why would he ruin things?

“Exactly.”

Starscream moans and it struck a tender nerve in Megatron as he delves into the work. Scanning with veracity through the thick folders and flashing tablets. Sorting through them with impressive speed and assumed accuracy. Megatron couldn’t keep up, left behind just to watch as Starscream took great pleasure in scowling and insulting the dissected projects. Sorting them as he saw fit.

Looking happy.

\---

“Megatron?”

He jerks awake, pushing back into the chair as optics scan the proximity for dangers: finding Starscream hovering and a look on his face that Megatron might never have seen before. Hard to tell.

“I was in thought.” He explains, just as a hard copy report detaches from his cheek and scatters the nest of work he’d been using as a pillow.

“Sure.” Starscream’s voice is low and a quick glance ahead shows the majority of the war table is cleared. Neatly stacked piles marked and ready for further processing. Notes in Starscream’s uneven scrawl marking the edges. Organized and complete save for the work lost to Megatron’s heavy head.

A simple check of his chronometer tells that it has been hours since he fell into recharge. Starscream had let him rest and hadn’t tried to kill him. So far as he could tell at least...

“What’s going on with you lately?” Starscream questions and it’s been weeks since Megatron permitted the seeker so close. Now here he stands, comfortable as ever. A warm servo on his shoulder, optics soft as they examine Megatron's form slowly. Not so dissimilar from the way Starscream usually looked at him before they threw whatever logic they had remaining and crashed into one another.

He really should stop thinking about that.

But something inside him was hungry.

Which is what excuse he would give himself later as parts Starscream’s legs with a single hand. Wanting at minimum to hold the seeker.

“Here?” Starscream seems surprised, looking around as though they might have forgotten they were not alone. But they were. That was the problem.

“Why not?” Megatron raises a knuckle to brush between Starscream’s thighs - the frame giving a shudder and didn’t pull away.

“Because we haven’t---not where we frequent.” Which was true. In their trysts they made it a point to avoid soiling rooms where they’d have to look at each other and remember what they did. Whether logic or shame, Megatron was never sure. But now, he thinks with a hold on Starscream’s leg. Reeling him in closer while his spark pulses and engines hum. Now he thinks they’ve been wasting time.

“I want you.”

“Oh.” Starscream has never sounded so light before, watching Megatron with those wide optics that seem unable to skip past his face. Looking for something, perhaps expecting a trick. “Are you sure you aren’t dying?”

Megatron chooses then to kiss him, settle those doubts with a sweep of his glossa against lips parted in surprise. Using his strength to aid Starscream’s abrupt scramble into his lap, legs straddling his thick thigh. Starscream’s servos grasping the back of his helm and drawing him in tight. To kiss him with a strained fervor though their last time had not been so long ago. Usually they went years without touching, somehow this felt like centuries since he last tasted Starscream’s mouth on his own. Forever since he was allowed to groan a heavy sigh against sharp teeth and squeeze small hips.

“Megatron,” Came the delectable whisper - Starscream’s kiss turning to a bite against his jaw. Rocking red hips against the curve of Megatron’s sitting form where already panels were beginning to swell with heat and they shared a deep circuit quiver as Megatron’s fingers found the low seam beneath chest turbines. Pawing against the long heated sigh of the seeker’s frame.

“I’ve been wanting you.” Megatron repeats, raising his thigh to better grant Starscream the friction he deserves, rocking down on his hip.

“You stubborn fool, you should have said so.” He’s kissed again, both catching the other’s rattling breath as Megatron’s engines rumble and Starscream’s whine. Hands falling to Starscream’s aft, dragging him rough against himself as the seeker’s wings catch light like stars across their glossy surface. “Megatron,”

He wants to bite those wings. He wants to hold the back of Starscream’s neck down and trail his tongue across the colors.

“Megatron?”

He wants to pin them to his throne, taking Starscream slow before the jealous gaze of the faction below…

“Megatron!” There’s a sharp crack as Starscream strikes him across the jaw, knocking his vision to the side and sending rising thoughts to pool heavy into his tanks. The pain, not entirely unpleasant, was enough to reel his focus back in. Look at his company with clear sight: and was greeted by a look both disturbed and unprepared.

The ghostly blue light of Megatron's exposed spark cast across Starscream's features. “What are you doing?!”

Megatron finds the commands to shut the chamber like feeling in the dark for something unknown.

“What did you see?!” Shame brews into anger, holding Starscream’s arms too tightly as he finds it all too easy to lift the small body. Toss him to the table where wings smash and scatter the neat piles of datapads and tablets. The sound loud as pieces scatter and Starscream’s legs swing to find purchase.

“Did you just try to bond with me?!”

“Be silent!”

“No!” Starscream is up on arms, watching Megatron with a face flushed dark, heels dug into the table. Canopy heaves as vents rush, trying to cool down from the misstep and the sudden attack. Megatron doesn’t advance, in fact, he walks with swift steps as far from the seeker as he can. Tempted to merely rush out the door.

Run. He was in no danger, certainly not by Starscream in a room with a low ceiling, but he still felt like running.

His chest swam like little fists pounding at the inside of his spark.

“What is wrong with you?!" 

"You're dismissed!" 

"Oh that's cute!" Starscream pushes off the table, landing a short distance away as he examines himself for damage. "You're just lucky I'm sturdier than your dramatics!" 

"My dramatics?" Megatron's vision flickers, chest tight as the room shifts harshly to the left. "Choose your next words wisely Starscream." There are suddenly two Starscreams, they both roll their optics at him.  
  
"Or what, you'll throw me again?!"   
  
Something punches through his spark and Starscream’s hands are under his jaw when he collapses. Sparing him the worst of the fall, but he was unable to do more than roll to the side. Avoid crushing the delicate frame under his not inconsiderable weight only to land with a harsh cry of his own to the floor. The beating of his spark continued, something trying to tear it’s way out as Starscream managed to roll him to his back, calling his name.

No. Not his name. Skywarp’s.


	2. Complaints

\--

When he wakes, Soundwave is there waiting for him.

The officer is missing their ever-present mask, leaving the rarely seen mouth set into a deep frown for Megatron’s viewing. Three shallow wounds marking the side of their helm and cheek. Something most would not know about Soundwave is their compulsive need for perfection extends further than simply their work: but appearance as well. The slightest scuff could send them into a fit, though few would see it as such.

The world needed to be a certain way for Soundwave to thrive, so they fought to keep the world that way. It was only a benefit to Megatron that his needs suited Soundwave’s world.

“Starscream?” He questions, gaze drifting from the marred face to his own form. Tubes strung lofty from his parted plates - energon transfer and brassy wires wove themselves through his core, covered by the flickering light of a light shield for his safety.

“Starscream.” Soundwave confirmed, sounding bitter and seeming so different without the mask. They didn’t move to stop Megatron as he shifted on the medical berth, dismissing the covering with a wave. His frame felt settled, but echoed with distant pain. Like something had torn and restitched itself, leaving him with the fresh scar. “Your condition is...”

“Fine. I assume. Or else you wouldn’t allow me to move.”

“Affirmative.” They nod and rise to the nearest console, typing swiftly across a control panel to bring up various displays. “Levels stabilized, Spark rhythms receding from dangerous fluctuations.”

“What about the sparklings?” He asks with a tightening in his gut. Though his processor feels swollen and his spark aches it’s the first time in weeks Megatron has not woken to the eager tug and toil of the little things siphoning his energy for their own. He felt normal again. Which felt anxiously hollow instead. “Soundwave.”

Soundwave answers by a simple change of imagery from the computers.

Two particles of green-blue light hovering at the outer edges of Megatron’s spark. Connected by strings of energy wavering in erratic patterns as they seemed settled low. Still, for once, but twice as big as before - Megatron exhaling the full body sigh he was not aware he was holding in.

“They’re fine.”

“Their sire is not.”

Megatron groaned, wanting to sink back into the berth in the briefest thought that perhaps Hook could put him under for longer?

“He knows?”

“Negative. Starscream not as clever as he thinks he is.” Megatron feels relief and twinge of disappointment. “He is under the assumption you have simply fallen ill to unforeseen upgrade complications.” Soundwave answers, pale mouth moving in delay to the projected voice. They’d forgotten how to properly sync years ago, it made Megatron miss the mask. “He struck me for implying he was the cause of a surge.”

“Not untrue.” Megatron hums, sitting up to swing hefty pedes to the medbay floor, full height before Soundwave’s sitting form. “But I’ll take his compliance to this falsehood.”

“You attempted to bond with Starscream.” Soundwave had to mention just as Megatron turned his body in a stretch. Still unused to the thicker swell as carrier protocol instigated so many unexpected changes. “Intentionally?”

“No.” Megatron answered with clear certainty, allowing a servo to come and rest across his chest. Covering the insignia with palm alone and for a moment he felt The Right shift. “We were...”

“Defiling paperwork.”

“Caught up in a moment.” Corrects, wanting to steer Soundwave’s narrative of the situation. It was hardly something casual. So abrupt that his need for Starscream had felt like life or death. “I’m assuming more of my continued poor decisions caused this issue?”

“An interrupted merge can cause unstable influx of energy. Backlash.” Soundwave fills in the blanks. “Suggestion? Don’t do it again unless you intend to complete the merge.”

“Is that a suggestion?” Megatron questions, finding Soundwave approving any course of action which brought him closer to Starscream almost too impossible to believe. Perhaps the erratic seeker brainwashed his crew in his absence? Perhaps he had died instead? But Soundwave did not seem amused, or impaired. Mouth set in a firm line, watching Megatron through the polished visor just as empty as any drone.

“Lord Megatron.” Their voice is quiet, weighed by knowledge and warning. “Please do not put your heirs at further unnecessary risk if you so choose to maintain their growth.”

“That could mean many things Soundwave.” He reaches down to take Soundwave’s chin in hand, examine the elongated scratches left behind with a fond glance. A sign that Starscream would not be in a good mood when Megatron rejoins his Second.

"You are lucky Starscream did not kill you while incapacitated." No truer words have been spoken, and Megatron is left to wonder.

“I have time still to decide my course of action, and whether or not Starscream deserves to take part in any decision-making.”

“We have no means to measure that worth.” Soundwave clarifies, strangely challenging for their normal neutral temperament. It should upset Megatron more but he knows Soundwave well enough, their intricacies and oddities, to know where this hesitation comes from.

“I understand this is a sore subject for you.” He releases their chin, staring down the exit doors like a long mile. “But as always I ask that you trust me. It’s for our cause that we don’t blindly give Starscream any additional power he is not ready for.”

“Being a parent is not some power to wield.” Soundwave offers quietly and Megatron gives a meager grunt to show he was listening at all. Uncertain whether Soundwave was referring to Starscream, or him.

\---

It seems, due to Starscream’s call for his wingmate, none beyond the medical team and Skywarp was made aware of Megatron’s "injury". Good, though surprising. It wasn’t like Starscream to miss opportunities to make him seem weak before their soldiers. Perhaps he was caught off guard, maybe distracted by the events which caused his injury. Megatron is able to step onto the bridge without fear of gossip or growing ideas of his failing.

Maintaining the idea of invulnerability as important as staying physically capable in this army of power-hungry bastards.

Nevertheless, Megatron lowered his hand from the insignia before the doors to the bridge opened: and was met by only one pair of scathing eyes.

If nothing else, he is lucky Starscream does not have the capacity to create fire as his cousin Sunstorm. Or else, judging by the snarling tension radiating from the seeker sitting upon his throne, the Nemesis would be up in flames and Optimus Prime would have been delivered a smoking husk of a victory.

Starscream slouches in the throne with all intentions of disrespect. Legs crossed and slanted before him, claws tapping away in slow pattern to his right. The crew at station all bowing away from their glowering commander. Shoulders hunching, mounted cannons pointing downwards to avoid being more noticeable than the stations themselves. It was in this moment Megatron is reminded that, while Starscream may not be very well liked by the majority of their faction who exist in his reach from the day to day…

Starscream is still feared.

“Commander on deck!” Soldiers nearest to the door scramble up in respect, the rest following and tripping over themselves to do the same. Starscream however remains seated, only watching his approach with an unchallenged gaze. Those in the pit noticing well.

“Starscream.” He calls up from the foot of the dais steps, taking each one at a time, on guard for traps or trip wires.

“My Liege.” The elongated purr of the seeker’s voice threw every alarm in Megatron’s head into overdrive. Starscream did not wear a look of disgust, but his fine face was clouded in anger, twisting with the struggle to smile in greeting. Whether Starscream knew or not, clearly some assumptions had been left to cultivate in his terrible mind. Briefly Megatron considered just shooting him now, sparing the Decepticons of the impending chaos which was likely about to erupt now that Megatron had reached his throne.

Something inside him twisted painfully at the thought.

“I suppose a congratulations is in order.” Starscream raises his voice loud enough for the room to hear. The quiet carrying even the sound of shifting wings to the distant corners.

“Don’t.” Megatron warns, realizing now that he should have summoned the seeker to him rather than stand before him like a clown. Upon waking his only desire was to reach Starscream. See Starscream. He never stopped to think: what then? Or Why it was so important?

Carrying, clearly, was clouding his better judgement. He cursed his hidden children and realized for the first time...he considered them his children.

“Don’t? But you should be so proud,” Starscream rises in a rush of pale and red, wings snapping to attention as he motions ahead. Soundwave said Starscream didn’t know? But what was this - waiting to expose him before his soldiers?

“Starscream,”

“After all, Thora 544 is a wonderful acquisition for the Decepticon cause.”

“What?” He stares and Starscream reaches back, bringing up the latest communications. Decepticon forces in broad celebration of their victory over a neutral blockade. A long sought after post finally theirs. Starscream all but throws him the datapad and Megatron catches it, leaving his chest unguarded from the pale blue servo which stretches wide over the insignia. A singular claw tracing the flat seam of his frontal armor.

The sparklings practically jump at the nearness of their sire. Megatron flinches.

“That is...good news.” He responds with caution, trying to decide how much the seeker was giving him. If he knew? If he assumed? Damn time not to know everything going on in the devil’s thoughts. He needed Soundwave here to diffuse the situation.

“Shall we set course? We’ll need to begin cyberforming before the Autobots catch us scattered.”

“Starscream, perhaps we should speak of this in…”

“The war room?” He finishes, smile wide and terrible as he sweeps to the side, offering the throne back to its rightful owner. “Lord Megatron, I think you’ve had enough of extracurricular activities. Especially ones you can’t keep up with...” His voice carries, rumors churn.

Ah. Megatron sees it now.

Starscream isn’t suspicious. Starscream is embarrassed.

Thank Primus.

“I see.” He clears his throat and Starscream’s face sinks when Megatron brushes him aside in favor for the throne. Taking his place with a quiet thud of motion. Daring to grin across the way at the seeker, who likely thought he could tease Megatron for longer. This was not over by far, but if he could convince Starscream he was in no way afflicted past the temporary falter in presentation...then he would have bought more time in deciding what to do with the squirming, restless things within. “Set course.” He confirms, motioning to Starscream’s vacant console to which the seeker scoffs and seemingly knows no better.

“Of course, Sir.”

“That’s a good seeker.” And he is spared of trouble...

 

For exactly and only the length of that shift and no longer.

 

“Megatron!”

“Dammit.” He sighs mere steps from the bridge where the replacement shift was taking their place. Rudely they're shoved aside by the small fury that was his Second. Megatron's spark pulses and though he just refueled he feels a need to do so again. “Yes. Starscream?”

“Don’t try that,” The seeker huffs, already taking up most of the hallway with his wings that standing beside Megatron means those trying to pass have to fall to their backs against the bulkhead. Shuffle past knowing Starscream would not move for their meager convenience. “We have things to discuss.”

“Like what?”

“Like what happened.” Megatron did his best not to react, the slip on the bridge was far enough. He did not flinch, Starscream was not allowed to do that to him.

This entire situation was the fault of Starscream being allowed to DO things Starscream should NOT have been allowed to DO.

“I was under the impression Soundwave updated you.”

“Unless you’re present we both know Soundwave is practically a free agent. Besides, why should I trust a thing they say. They blamed ME for your weakness!” He couldn’t fault Starscream for that, if only this were Skywarp’s fault - or Thundercracker. Megatron was certain he could outdo either of them with simple orders.

Then again, Megatron knows he would never be in such position with another. It just had to be Starscream didn’t it?

“What happened in the war room was a combination of poorly timed excitement and improper maintenance.” Beside him, Starscream snorts in annoyance. “It was a mere tremor, my filtration shutters lifted. I can understand your confusion.”

“Your shutters?” He gawked, spinning on heel to face Megatron. “That wasn’t your shutter that was your spark--” Luckily none were present in the corridors to almost hear Starscream’s accusation. Nor were there witnesses to Megatron snatching his Second by the arm and hoisting him to the bulkhead. Pinning him with a singular servo braced across his throat and collar. He loomed and Starscream only feared for a moment before his pride overcame his famous cowardice.

Again Megatron felt the sparklings bounce with excitement, as if the small things could already miss their sire. Dammit.

Megatron felt a similar thrill, left wanting after their foiled impromptu need of one another. It was however important to note, Starscream had not fought his advances, and in fact had responded rather enthusiastically towards them.

“What are you going to do, throw me across a table again?” He snarks, looking bored where Megatron’s large hand keeps him. He can hold most this seeker’s waist in the grasp of one hand, and has before. Such a lovely thing. Distracting thing. It's only his pride that was surprised he let Starscream under his panels with little battle.

“Why are you so focused on this Starscream?” He questions, leaning into the seeker’s warmth. "Worried for me?"  
“No!” Voice cracks and Megatron chuckles for it, letting the dark face flush before him. “But if you’re sick - or dying - you have to tell me. I’ll be furious if you finally keel over and I don’t have a crown!” It was easier to think away from Starscream, from his sharp features and the memory of how proud and eager he was to fall against his lord in service. The way he looked when --- when he was horrified at the first glance of Megatron’s spark.

He retreats, being sure to right Starscream as he steps back so the other does not trip over himself. Of course that face is still wrinkled in uncertainty, but Megatron could not risk prolonged nearness.

“When I die I’m sure you’ll be present.” He waves off the seeker, shifting to put more room between them. “In the meantime, you still do as I command.”

“But-”

“Curb your paranoia Starscream, you cannot bicker me to death though you might try.” Optics flash and he knows he’s said something to upset the seeker. Good. A pouting seeker plots far from him. Would rather that than this hovering business without reason. “Ensure navigation keeps high command apprised of any route changes, I want you working alongside them so we don’t fall into a damn wormhole.”

“If we pass by one, can I throw you in?” Sneers in his quick exit and Megatron finds himself lingering to watch the retreating form pout back towards the busier corridors. Missing something he should not miss.

\---

It is lucky their armada has something to focus on. Thora 544 was an important territory, long the center of squabbles between Decepticon, Organic defenders, and Autobots alike. The weight of Decepticon brutality had finally proven worthwhile and the victory itself was rippling tide of boosted morale and the promise of resources. Once secured, mining operations would begin. The constructicons would be able to smash mountains and fabricate impressive structures to their spark’s content. There would be solid terra beneath their pedes once more rather than the, at times, aimless push and sigh of space. Going where was needed, exploring what they could, stumbling into battles rather than the organized warfare of those early days. They all worked best with a clear goal in sight.

What was unfortunate was Starscream’s suspicious mind seemed unchanged by Megatron’s excuse.

On the bridge he felt the seeker watching him like never before. Passing the mech in the hall became a slow examination, shamelessly raking his gaze over his leader’s form. Looking for something, anything, to better explain what occurred that evening. Megatron kept his distance from Starscream but some idiot had chosen to put the brat as Second in Command which meant he was present nearly as much as Soundwave. Watching. Questioning. Gently challenging every word from Megatron’s mouth and leaning in as if the smallest stress might activate whatever Starscream assumed was wrong.

The sparklings, using his form as their own personal playground, seemed to love it.

At times Megatron feared one of them might find a way to pull apart the walls of his inner chambers when Starscream was too near. Forced to stand side by side with the seeker became a game to speak more than was necessary, the rumble of his voice at least proving a soothing method for his rambunctious twins. A tactic often used at night when the sparks are impossibly riled - retelling war stories or reviewing strategies for their entertainment. It worked. Megatron wasn’t going to complain.

And oh how they seemed to adore the times when Starscream’s wing would just scrape the edges of his back. An action not unusual for the other, but the smallest intimacies sent his spark sputtering and flushed. Wanting that which was clearly a terrible idea.

Megatron found comfort in the wild of the sparklings only at in evening hours. When he could retreat to his quarters and dare to open the armor walls with a hiss of relief. Stare into the newly acquired mirror to examine the things himself - as they had grown so rapidly instruments were no longer required. He could see his children when he wanted now. Standing awkward before his own reflection, uncertain how one should approach such a thing.

How exactly should he react? Looking inside himself - a goliath among the history of the universe - while tiny stars swirling careless and safe might bring him to his knees. He felt this was not normal.

Soundwave assured him, it was completely normal.

“You are more than just yourself now.” They explained, cryptic as ever even with him. Doting in ways Soundwave was not before. Soundwave was ever the efficient soldier, but cleaning up after another’s fueling or making their berth was out of the question if you were not their own creation.

Megatron wasn’t certain how he felt about Soundwave’s sudden gentleness towards him. Rather. How exactly the officer saw him now that he was carrying?

“Starscream would leave me to fend for myself.” He tells the other, pretending not to notice when Soundwave cleans away emptied energon cubes. Idly rearranging spent fusion cells Megatron never bothered to recycle with any orderly fashion. Despite how many times Starscream yells at him. The idea that he does it just so the seeker hunts him down to yell at him using intricate language has certainly crossed his mind. Megatron simply chooses to ignore the obvious.

“Data does not support that assumption.”

“You seem defensive.” Megatron groans, turning on Soundwave with a thin stare. “For all that you are normally cautious, you seem eager to blindly hand over this information.”

“Eventually your state will be recognizable. To even those unfamiliar with the process.” Which was most Decepticons, if not the majority of Cybertronians. War had certainly distanced them from the challenge of bringing new life into the universe. “There will be questions from more than simply Starscream.”

“I can’t imagine any of my soldiers being stupid enough to ask me which mech is responsible.”

“Expect for Starscream.” Soundwave counters. “He is likely to make his own connections. He will not be happy.”

“Nothing makes Starscream happy.” Drones on before falling to the new habit of resting his hand over his chest, tracing the insignia with an idle thumb while his sparklings seem to be sedated for the night. He too needed more rest, but carrying or not, there were still more pressing responsibilities for Megatron than falling to the needs of energy globules. “Leave the reports.” He orders before Soundwave can withdraw the very collection of work they’d brought for Megatron that evening. Likely assuming he was not up to the task.

“As you command.” They give in with a certain obvious displeasure. Before getting sparked Soundwave would throw tantrums in the stillness of their posture if work was ignored or overlooked in favor of more stimulating activities. Now Megatron has to fight his officer for even the most basic of tasks. It was entirely unfair and also the sort of thing he assumes a sire should be doing - the caretaking bit - and feels a bubble of bitter amusement at the thought of Starscream taking on such a role.

No. Never. The brat could hardly keep himself alive. Was more likely to leave a sparkling out in the open and forget about it rather than be even a tolerable caregiver!

Oh.

Megatron realizes in that moment he’s never considered the most obvious fact. That one day, if he does not undo the parasitic charges, there will be two helpless creatures for him to care for.

They might even be seekers.

Seekers with Starscream’s curling smile and clever nature - just as destructive but a fraction the size. He could step on one and end its life if he wasn’t careful! They were in a war! Where would he put them when gunfire and chaos surrounded him, armies of a hundred worlds out to snuff his spark! All this time Megatron has been more concerned with deciding whether or not to permit the little pinpricks of life to develop - he’d forgotten to consider what came next.

What by the shine of stars was he thinking!?

“Never-mind. Take the work, I think I need to lay down.” He dismisses instead and Soundwave looks suspicious now as Megatron retired to his berth. Happy to fall back with a harsh grunt and clang of joints as the weary frame settles poorly on the lean cot. Haunted by the idea of fragile things with minuscule optics and delicate bodies - things he might be able to crush with the smallest effort of a squeezed hand.

The Left gives strange flicker of energy and it bleeds back into Megatron’s spark as he listens to Soundwave’s exit. Off-lines his sights while The Right decides now is the PERFECT time to swim in loose circles until smacking into its twin.

“Calm down.” He commands with a low voice and both still in their play - clearly expecting more. Grunts, his large torso rumbling as he chooses a second engine system to burn fuel and heat the core chambers - something they also seemed to like as his own spark swelled and the tendrils keeping them together fed them well.

There was something both entirely too amusing and equally terrifying that he had something of Starscream’s eating away at his power supply, and he was allowing it.

The Right begins swimming again at the silence and Megatron racks his memory files for untold stories. Tossing aside mere logged transcripts of events until locating video files he’d never bothered to compress. Resting hands flat beneath the insignia he plays the recordings silently with no guarantee the little leeches can even see.

He shows them a young Starscream seated in a crowded room of recharging Decepticons, leaning over a mess in his lap of fine wires and stolen tools. Upgrading his shoulder mounts rather than resting. Megatron’s outstretched leg nearly the size of the seeker's hunched torso as they spoke gently into the night. The war no more than a flash of distant bombs on the clouded horizon. A quiver of destruction beneath their relaxed forms as Starscream explained the intricacies of his weapons and Megatron pretended to listen.

His children seemed to settle once more, perhaps able to watch the memory unfold, always happy to see their sire.

“I once knew that same feeling.” He rumbles to the twins, knowing full well he still did.

Best to avoid rejection of something he cannot take back.

\---

They’ll be reaching their destination soon and all Megatron wants is refined, filtered, not-processed through whatever rusted contraption Mixmaster has in his lab, energon. The ration brand is killing him. It’s killing his sparklings, he’s sure of it as fuel lines burn and the pump itself stutters now and then. Threatening a vicious upheaval across the war room table.

It’s a bad day to be a carrier. Everything aches in a way that Megatron thought only having a building dropped on him could ache. As such, Soundwave makes it easy for him to be excused from pre-arrival discussions. They have a damn protocol for new territories for a reason, they didn’t have to review it every time! If their intention was to rule the galaxy then Megatron couldn’t imagine it was a proper use of their time! This was all getting to be too much.

Pain. Irritability.

And The Left had stopped moving for two days.

He had yet to inform Hook of this development and didn't dare look for himself.

According to his limited research it would not be unusual for a spark fracture to be reabsorbed naturally back into the creator’s core. The Right had always been more dominant, demanding of attention and focus. The Right was strong and last Megatron had seen was already beginning to outgrow the first radius of Megatron’s spark - moving into the next stage of development. Whereas The Left remained close to his spark, connection small and tucked further back. Very much the way Starscream would hide from responsibility. He wasn’t worried about it until the first morning The Left did not move, pull, or swell in any noticeable way. Two days inactive while The Right continued unbothered by the potential plight of their sibling.

It was only logical to seek medical advice...and yet…

Megatron leaned against the bulkhead of the quiet corridor, most Decepticons thankfully resting or on active duty. Even if he was spotted in this moment of pause Megatron was unsure if he really cared.

One of his sparklings might be gone.

“If you’re dying, you have to tell me.” Starscream’s voice is an unparalleled displeasure as Megatron onlines his sights before realizing they had gone dark. Staring down at the seeker standing far too close for comfort. The Right giving a sharp pull of recognition while Starscream scowls.

“Now is not the time Starscream.” Warns, already placing his hand over the other’s shoulder, pushing him to the side to make room for a retreat. “As my Second isn’t it your responsibility to maintain sessions in my absence?”

“Soundwave is there.” Starscream sidesteps the hand, moving to practically jump into Megatron’s path. Helm ducked low to examine his features and finding something that makes him frown. “I’m more interested in what has you so gray.”

“I’m gray plated.” Megatron reminds.

“Well. You look terrible.” Starscream huffs, nearly tripping over himself to keep up with Megatron’s long stride. “You know, your excuse before was weak at best. But maybe you are actually ill…” He’s moving too fast trying to escape the seeker, causes proximity indicators to glitch with unknown fluctuations and sends Megatron’s balance off just enough that the bulkhead scrapes his arm in passing. It’s loud, clumsy, and Starscream can’t ignore it.

“Careful you idiot, what is WRONG with you?!” Small blue hands find their way like hooks into his hips, steering him with surprising tenderness to lean against the corridor wall instead of crashing into it as systems struggle to reset and restore. By now Megatron is certain if The Right had a voice it would be calling for it's sire. Too active by far

...and still The Left remained dormant.

“It’s none of your concern.”

“It is if I’m expected to find your carcass laying around one day!” Starscream’s voice rises to impressive heights and it just burrows and stings his receptors like a long blade pulling through his head. “You know, I see what’s happening here.”

Megatron would laugh that he most “certainly does not” if his throat did not feel full of it’s own inner dermis.

“You always act weird after we---”

“Do not finish that statement.” Megatron has fist extended, singular digit just beneath Starscream’s chin. “This has nothing to do with that.”

“And yet, you’re falling apart every time I get near.” He speaks as though it’s proof of something as the seeker grows louder. Even bothering to step closer as IF it were possible that Megatron couldn’t hear him. The pale canopy just brushing the lower of his torso. “The other day - I knew that wasn’t your fuel shutters! You did! You actually did try to bond---”

For the first time in two days, The Left moves.

A small shift, nothing compared to The Right, but Megatron feels his entire body freeze in excitement. A tremor falling down his stature waiting: and The Left moves again as if to prove it’s still alive and they also are bothered by their sire’s screeching volume.

“What’s wrong with your face?!” Starscream pulls back but Megatron already has a servo curling around the back of the smaller helm, yanking him closer despite the failed protests. Starscream is perfectly tucked against his chest, face turned where his cheek rests just beside the insignia and the warm exhale of frustration only serves to coax more motion from The Left. Curious thing lost in the valley of Megatron’s core. Seeking their sire most likely.

“Stop. Yelling.” He requests though the yelling had already stopped and Starscream is only cursing against his frame. Weakly pushing to escape.

“You’ve lost it.” Megatron feels the vibration of Starscream’s hiss against his frame and both sparklings swim against it. A relief he has not known swelling inside as the ill feeling seems to bleed away. Resting his own chin against the top of Starscream’s helm to breathe in the polish and copper - the ever lingering smell of scorched ozone from planets conquered while his seeker rode the skies free and terrible. “Whatever this is better not be contagious.”

"You’ve no idea.”

The answer startles Starscream who pulls back, eyeing Megatron with his usual suspicions and seems so unsatisfied with their current position. Still, he doesn’t withdraw entirely though Megatron leaves hands loose on pale shoulders. Wanting to at least keep the seeker near for the moment without holding him down.

Because it makes the sparklings happy. Clearly.

“So. You’re dying.”

“I’m not dying.” Megatron answers quickly. “Why. Would you care?” Starscream rolls his gaze, looking for a moment like he wouldn’t dignify it with a response.

“There’s little sport in stalking a wounded animal.” Dismisses casually, wings shifting with curiosity.

“Not even to put me out of my misery?”

“Now why would I ever want that?” There’s a shared laugh, which for them usually means Starscream threatens Megatron’s life and Megatron is demented enough to find it charming. He gives the seeker’s shoulder one final stroke with a slow sweeping digit, releasing him with much gentler means than days before when they argued in nearby corridors. Really they need to stop having these conversations where any could hear. Perhaps he should invite Starscream back to his room…

No. No.

“We will have plenty to busy ourselves with upon arrival at Thora, I expect you’ll be more than happy to take charge of our scientific needs?”

“How vague.” Starscream can’t help the surprise slipping past his sarcasm. Always pretending to only care for the glory of battles, but his roots are buried deep in that of an explorer. If granting him such permissions would keep him satisfied, so be it. Shockwave’s expected upset is not his priority. “And?”

“And what?”

“And: what is going on with you?” Pressures, unrelenting in his demand of information. Less elegant than Soundwave but just as paranoid of things they don’t know. “I’m not stupid, so if you don’t want me poking around…”

“Alright.” Megatron waves him off, knowing after the display he can’t expect Starscream to just forget what he's seen. “I’ll update you in full once we have settled on the planet.”

“What?! But you---”

Megatron just rests his entire hand on the seeker’s mouth, and is thankful he doesn’t get bit.

“But I can’t risk you getting distracted on your duties before then. So. Once we arrive we will have time. For now, I want you abusing your power as my loudest commander in ensuring our soldiers are ready.” Megatron at least was happy to know Starscream appeared delighted by the permission, and his sparklings were delighted by the contact with their sire. “Do we have an understanding?”

Starscream chooses then to bite his hand.

Light scrap of teeth, the smallest pressure around the base of his digit and that shouldn’t send a wild charge of thrill up Megatron’s back. His body already overwhelmed with new protocols, wanting relief in any way he might get it. But Megatron was a warrior. An emperor. He would not be brought low and overtaken by the smallest give from Starscream’s wicked mouth.

Or be wounded by the look of disappointment on the seeker once he pulled back to himself.

“With your current pathetic state, I’ll agree.” Starscream straightens his wings, brushing off imaginary dirt from his hips and the yellow glass of his canopy - knowing full well Megatron’s gaze will follow those hands. “But don’t try to break your word.”

“As always, you’re such a wonderfully obedient subordinate, Starscream.” Groans, knowing allowing the seeker to speak to him in such a way is...common when alone...but doesn’t make it any less shameful to his station. Reprimanding Starscream was as useful as asking a star to dim.

“Tell me something I don't know.” He teases and Megatron can think of two things he might share with the seeker that would have the brat undone.

\---

That evening he contacts Soundwave while staring at the swirling globes of life in the reflection. They’ve grown again, consumed all his power stores and still demand more. He’ll need to set aside pride and seek Hook in the morning, no more risk to the twin’s lives. No more endangering their progress. He's made a decision.

“Yes, Lord Megatron?”

“Are you still in possession of, what are they called, baby cages?”

There’s too long a pause, very unlike Soundwave. Megatron fears something has happened.

“Cribs?”

“Yes, that.” He confirms. “Do I require two? I suppose they won’t be capable of rolling off to the floor immediately…”

“Better to prepare with caution. I would recommend Scrapper begin drafting designs for room additions. Privately.”

“That will be fine.” Before him the sparklings remain content in the echo of his life force, tendrils longer now as both have reached the lower chamber.

“And Starscream?”

Megatron frowns, fully aware it was not merely his children that were settled with Starscream returned to his arms. 

“Let’s not give Starscream any reason to cause trouble before our destination. We’ll have time for that later.”

“Affirmative.” They don’t sound convinced. “Rest well, my lord.”

The Right decides it needs to sling itself back into Megatron's spark, sending a shock of cold energy through his being, almost knocking him off guard. He growls low to his creation, but believes he's being ignored already. Perhaps he should send Starscream far far away, stop this horrible influence he's already having on his children!

“We’ll see.”


	3. Calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bad at editing chapters, but this one is probably a little messier than normal because I JUST got my new laptop up and running to finish the chapter. So about 5000 words were written just on my phone @.@ I'm broke AF but at least I have a computer.

 

The decision to inform a few additional constructicons was required to ensure they understood the gravity of the new, sparkling-focused, assigned task. Of course, stating that the following information was “highly confidential” was Decepticon code for “don't tell Starscream” and had Scrapper looking all the more nervous for it. Already suspicious when called to his brother’s territory behind locked doors of the medical suite. Hook clearly in the know.

Soundwave's swift announcement that Megatron was expecting was not met with confused expressions or questions. Nor did the three seem changed by the news in a positive way as one might expect loyal soldiers being told their faction would have heirs.

In fact, Mixmaster and Scavenger covered their audial receptors and began humming to themselves while Scrapper half yelled “don't tell us anything more!” in a surprising panic.

“Plausible deniability.” Scrapper explained with a fervent bow.

“In case the sire becomes involved.” Added Mixmaster. Nervously.

“The sire, we have NO clue about!” Whimpered Scavenger fooling no one.

“I understand.” Megatron reassured them so their forms could relax, shaking his head towards Soundwave in utter disbelief. It seemed he'd just discovered the one thing no one wished to hide from Starscream. He supposes he couldn't blame them. When, if, Starscream is told there will certainly be an eruption. Those involved will want protection.

“Congratulations sir,” Finally Scavenger offered as Megatron pretended he didn't feel entirely disappointed by their response. He wasn't requiring praise for every action like Starscream but a simple show of interest for their future leaders would be nice! At this point he might as well inform Starscream just to have someone care! Even if his expected version of “care” would likely be open fire and denial.

If his sparklings show no signs of seeker coding then there was a chance he could avoid Starscream's involvement all together. A miracle that. But he's filled with a deep suspicion already that The Right will be exactly as he feared. With the constant state of blissfully spinning in circles now that the tether has lengthened reminded Megatron of his aerial force. Seekers cooped up for too long, pacing in circular motions until freed to open flight. Claustrophobic things, so too seemed his children.

What if they both were seekers?

“When shall our tasks be required for presentation, my lord?” Scrapper was already pulling up schematics in his mind, head tilting in the unseen displays. “Perhaps we have time to retrofit a dispensary to your quarters? For ease of refueling of course.”

“We've many more months before there's need for that. Our conversion of Thora will take priority.” Megatron’s own development too two solar years. At least as far as records show. Not as if Megatron had any memory of some carrier who popped him out and moved on. More likely he was grown as many were: in hanging sacs of protmatter and gathered sparks.

If he's lucky the delivery is even further off - give Megatron a chance to bring the twins into the universe on Cybertron.

“Actually...sir…” Hook’s tone did not fill him with any confidence and the lingering constructicons seemed suddenly impatient to be dismissed.. “Judging by the latest scans I would put the emergence at closer to the next two months...”

Megatron stares at him, waiting for perhaps a reveal of a joke - the admittance of a prank? Hope diminishing the longer Hook stares in awkward silence at the new information. Looking guilty.

“It seems...we will require two neonates containers. Soon.” Megatron informs Scrapper.

“ _Cribs._ ” Stresses Soundwave as the extra constructicons are dismissed, leaving Hook shrinking down in the face of Megatron's imposing stare.

“You've changed your original estimation by a great deal.”

“Yes, well sir,” Hook gestures a plea wringing his servos together. “You see, those time frames were based off your own coding and what information we have on similar builds. But due to your latest scans you’ve already begun collecting metallico alloy. They’re taking shape.”

Megatron hates the look of “I told you so” on Soundwave's guarded face.

“How long does it take for a Seeker to emerge?” Asks, dreading the answer.

“With what meager data I have...at most...three orbital months.”

Four months ago Megatron made the stupid, impassioned choices which lead him to his current state. Two months ago he discovered he was sparked and began this awkward dance to keep it from influencing his day to day more than necessary.

Five months total gestation, that seemed too soon for proper development of anything let alone three months!

“As I said before, my Lord, seekers aren’t the type to be slowed down for longer than necessary…”

“Does everything with that manic build have to be so damned fast?!” Slams his body down into the nearest chair, hardly satisfied by the crumple and groan in response to his weight. Soundwave was distant, clearly searching for some information in their endless volumes stored while Megatron tried to simply process the news.

The Left and The Right will be tangible things in but a couple months. Squirming things he can hold in his servos. Things he would have to teach and protect.

“We will have to greatly increase your fuel intake. Introduce certain chemical stimulants and supplements as well.” Hook flinches awkwardly. “I don't suppose there's any way to convince Starscream to donate any amount of his transfluid? Perhaps a sample of his chamber mold for proper protoform development.”

Megatron just glares.

“A sparked pair would share such in intimate ritual“ Soundwave comments, from experience. Megatron thinks back to the travesty of his spark chamber opening, horrifying Starscream in their own “intimate moment”.

“Will the sparklings suffer without the donation?”

“Negative.” Soundwave wouldn't put fledglings in danger so Megatron felt he could trust their answer. “But lack of proper support will slow down natural development.”

“They’re strong enough to emerge in five months. They’ll be fine.” Megatron comments, claims soured by memory of The Left’s delay. Though The Left has grown in size alongside their sibling, it is still less active than expected. No longer does The Left curl close to his spark and pulse unmanaged emotions through their tether. Hook has yet to find any notable cause for concern, so Megatron trudges on. “Hook, your new priority is to ensure there are no more _surprises_ in store for us with seeker coding mucking things about.” He’s never seen such dread appear on his engineer’s face. Good.

“Pardon?”

“I don’t care which of those winged demons you speak to. But you will collect as much data as you require - then ten times more - to be certain you are the foremost expert on the subject.” He stares and Hook crumbles. “Am I understood?”

“Of course, Sir. I’ll...I’ll get right on that.”

Megatron pretends he doesn’t see the way Soundwave rolls their helm.

 

\---

It is rare to find that Starscream is doing his job.

Let alone, doing his job well.

Any other time Megatron would be filled with a terrible suspicion, but that’s what he has Soundwave for - keep an optic on his Second in Command in case their _understanding_ that all will be revealed wasn’t enough for the brat. Megatron still struggles with the idea that he will indeed tell Starscream the truth, such an interesting dilemma before him. Were the roles reversed, Megatron can only imagine the unending fury he might experience should Starscream conceal that he was carrying his heirs. The reverse is quite different, or at least feels that way.

Starscream is a danger to himself and others on a GOOD day. He despises most, tolerates few, and though they have shared evenings of basic instinct rutting into each other Megatron would never allow himself to confuse boredom and lust with affection. Starscream cared little for him, and in a fashion dissimilar to Soundwave, only followed Megatron due to his own needs aligning with the Decepticon cause.

Without the Decepticons Megatron very much doubts he would ever have seen the lovely, poisonous thing, or ever had a chance to give himself so foolishly over..

“We’re detecting no Autobot or Galactic force in our path.” Starscream before him continues with his presentation, another gathering of officers in the dim light of the war room where he very nearly lost the upper hand with his devious second. “ Likely Thora has been abandoned with our victory. Our forces there say they have yet to encounter any further ships.”

“Possibly, they expect reinforcements and have chosen to concede the territory.” Soundwave adds, still in their seat at Megatron’s left while Starscream manipulates a holo projection - dark face cast in blue manifested stars. Focused on his work and pretty features bunched in concentration.

“Thank you for stating the obvious, Soundwave.” Starscream snips, returning scans to Skywarp who immediately looks like he can’t believe Starscream expects him to be responsible. Megatron could almost countdown to Skywarp passing the items to Thundercracker. Arms already full of both Skywarp and Starscream’s collective work. “Anyways, back to me. If we maintain our current heading, and don’t overextend our engines, we should be at the rendezvous point with battleships The Tragedy and Last Resort. From there a quantum jump will bring us to Thora.”

With Megatron’s current condition it was necessary to allow Starscream a more dominating presence on the bridge and navigation wing as he was never certain when carrying would share in delightful and abrupt illness Perhaps this was also a test of Starscream’s capabilities. The seeker despised work, but loved being in control. Having Megatron’s support in delegating tasks and managing priorities seemed to suit his terrible Second just fine. Almost gave him the impression Starscream was a capable soldier outside of just slaughter and schemes. Imaginet hat.

He supposes Starscream did keep the Aerialforce in line, which was no small feat. Like a room of rapid turbocats trying to chew one another apart on a common day. He shudders to think…

Megatron doesn’t shift in his chair, observing the intricate display of the planet, the scattered debris of battles won. The potential all floating a mere stretch from his grasp.

“Who do you have on communications with the accompanying battleships?” It's Soundwave. It's only ever Soundwave.

“Bitstream.”

At this Megatron looks up, brow wrinkled.

“You have a seeker helming communications?” Stunned really, and Megatron was doing his best to ignore the wavering of The Right back and forth and back and forth and back and forth while Starscream was in sight.

“Well,” Starscream looks over his leader and the telepath with unveiled annoyance. “Soundwave has been oh so very busy recently. I thought it best not to overwhelm them.” Megatron is certain there’s some sort of scorn he should read from this, but is too focused trying to decide how best to avoid an argument with Starscream. (Or to avoid purging his tanks now that The Right has apparently learned to dance.)

“Bitstream. Tolerable.” Soundwave interjects and Starscream’s wings seem to jump in surprise at the _almost_ approving tone. “Current projects, abundant. Assistance, acceptable.”

“You’re certain?” Megatron questions, feeling uncomfortable now. He was carrying, Starscream was doing a good job, Soundwave was agreeing with Starscream?? What was next, Optimus Prime calling and offering to suck his...

“Affirmative. Starscream’s choices…” Soundwave momentarily trails off, focus falling to the seeker in question who looks just as surprised as Megatron feels. Even glancing to the side to seek confirmation that this was really happening from his leader. Megatron could only return a gentle shrug. “Starscream’s choices. Logical.”

Of course, Starscream couldn’t accept the vote of confidence.

“Oh thank you, I’m so happy my decisions are confirmed by a lesser.” Growls in a way that has his wings wavering, almost smacking Megatron in the face. Nothing new. Tolerating small acts of disorder only ever worked in Megatron's favor as it gave Starscream the feeling that he'd gotten away with something.

Megatron reaches up and takes hold of a thin edge, gently relocating the wing back towards its owner with a scowl. Yet Starscream hardly noticed, busy staring Soundwave down with shuttered optics and the glint of denta. It was quite strange to see Starscream focusing his irritation on another: Megatron was almost jealous.

“You’ll hold responsibility for your selection.. But, it seems you have us well handled, Starscream.” He comments as Starscream’s head swivels to face him.

“Yes well, I’m eager to reach the territory as soon as possible.” Confirms, lingering on Megatron’s stare until Soundwave is already moving into position to take lead of discussions. Once returned to his seat Skywarp and Thundercracker lean close with soundless discussion in the flicker of their optics and the smallest motion of wings.

Skywarp was intelligent enough to know it would not benefit him in the least to share with the rest of the ship what occurred few weeks ago. That being summoned to bring his unconcious leader to the medbay - and being told NOTHING more was something he should, and must accept.

Of course Skywarp knowing meant it was safe to assume Thundercracker was also in the loop. Whether Starscream had chosen to include his trine in their additional conversation on the matter was uncertain. Perhaps if Starscream proves to be an unfit sire one of them would step up as a replacement for whatever potential seeker-requirements the sparklings will need?

It’s not something Megatron enjoys considering, replacing Starscream’s role in all of this. He feels tense in his chair as Soundwave begins weaving through assigned tasks and collecting data from the remaining of those gathered.

[Are you really going to waste our time and wait until we land to tell me what’s going on?] Starscream’s voice permeates the rough static of indecision. The seeker unmoving at his right, even pretending to listen to Soundwave’s projected voice and the additional commentary of the gunners and engineers. Long-range communications gave them certain expectations of the state of their victory on Thora, but it was always the Decepticon way to be paranoid.

[Patience is a virtue.] Responds and completely misses everything that is being said due to Starscream’s invasive laugh. Sharp and loud in his mind.

[You don’t keep me around for my virtues.] Huffs and Megatron catches the smallest hike of wings in his peripheral. [Nod your head.]

Megatron nods his head without considering why and Bonecrusher agrees with whatever he confirmed. Dirge seems dejected and Soundwave changes their initial landing tactics - watching Megatron and Starscream with slightest suspicion.

[Don’t do that.]

[Well you weren’t paying attention and they needed an answer.] Starscream’s voice curls in his processor and The Left gives a jump, more movement than the little one has provided in awhile. Perhaps it would be beneficial to seek Starscream’s company afterall. Avoiding him only increased the brat’s suspicions and the last thing Megatron needed was Starscream fabricating a conclusion. Knowing his Second’s legendary imagination Starscream could easily concoct a narrative much worse than the truth of Megatron carrying his heirs.

If seekers even cared about that sort of thing. He’d have to wait for Hook’s research into the matter for answers.

[How long until this obedient streak of yours rises up to bite me?]

Of course Megatron wasn’t stupid enough to ACTUALLY believe Starscream was going to wait patiently until Thora. Precautions had been taken already. Soundwave relocated and wiped any trace of Megatron’s state from Nemesis computers. Keeping it all safe inside themself - impenetrable and untouchable by a demanding seeker. Starscream could not be calmed by an agreement to “tell him later” and being prepared for him to lie was only second nature. Hopefully Skywarp wouldn’t be foolish enough to aid in breaking into his chambers either...the equipment was a bit noticeable…

[You also don't keep me around for my obedience.] Starscream answers, coy and playful tone only serving as a reminder of who exactly Megatron was dealing with.

[Then remind me why I keep you around at all?]

[I have my uses.] Chances to seek the seeker’s gaze, finding devastating red watching him back over the edge of the datapad Starscream was pretending to review. It certainly has his memories twirling. The image of nothing more than Starscream’s optics, peeking devilish and pleased from between Megatron’s spread legs, his codpiece colored pink in the reflection of burning eyes.

It wasn’t so long ago that Starscream had all but leapt onto him. In THIS room nonetheless. Willing and warm. Beneath the table a pale leg just manages to brush his. He’s warm again in such a casual touch. It reminds Megatron further of that night, their shared mission spent bickering - until the mercenary ship grew cold and his proud seeker sought out heat and comfort...

This time Megatron is well-aware that his too noticeable sigh, his heating core, has nothing to do with needy sparklings in the presence of their sire.

Merely dwelling too long on the handsome mistake that is his Second in Command.

Something behind his chest piece _thumps_ , gears shifting, and Soundwave catches the moment just in time to drop in between them. Putting themself like a barricade while Megatron snapped back to himself the moment Starscream’s enticing stare is cut off.

He practically hears Starscream’s seething. Making it known through a high-pitched whine HOW he feels about Soundwave’s interruption. Megatron on the other hand is trying to decide if he’s going to have to remove Starscream from his ship until the emergence. The Left and The Right remain settled as he rengages his core locks - wanting nothing getting in or out - as Soundwave begins to lead the meeting to a close.

“We’ll make the jump tomorrow, once the remainder of our Armada joins us.” He concurs with Starscream’s earlier estimations, rising from his chair first so the rest gathered know it is time to leave. Soundwave stays close, protects him in a way from the seeker’s lingerings as officers begin to consider their exit. Starscream watching, ever-paranoid and dissecting all before him as though he could merely glare the answers out of Megatron. “You have your orders. Dismissed.”

The Command trine hesitates, Thundercracker and Skywarp waiting for Starscream who seems unwilling to surrender territory earned. Megatron has to wonder if he’s thinking the same thing - if Starscream is thinking of them and their ruined evening due to Megatron’s currently _impaired_ state. Judging by Soundwave’s sudden tension it’s likely and Megatron finds himself fighting a smug grin.

One that Starscream catches, and likely misinterprets by his sharp scoff and dramatic turn to leave. Wings nearly sweeping his trine mates to their afts in his loud exit.

“Unintentional?” Soundwave questions once they are alone and The Right returns to lazy laps, testing the length of their tether.

“They’re demanding little things.” Answers swiftly, fighting the urge to sit as he knows it’s only going to get worse.

“Surely.” Megatron isn’t certain he likes Soundwave’s tone, too comfortable passing judgement by far. The other seems to catch on to his annoyance rather quickly and withdraws, a talent most Decepticons seem to lack. “Without Starscream’s potential _material donation_ , but still in proximity to the sire, protocols have leaned toward the instinctual. Your spark chamber will continue to open at your children’s whims.”

“So it seems.” But how to stop it?

“Suggestion? Limit interaction with Starscream.” Soundwave offers and Megatron finds himself frowning when before the idea should have made him sing. “Unless…”

“I’ll handle things my way, Soundwave. Thank you.” Megatron is already summing Hook to the medical bay - making the decision that he was in no way held to share with Soundwave his intentions. “If we truly have such little time before they bind and emerge - I want all efforts on the establishment of Thora. We’ll need utmost efficiency settling a new territory with two new additions.”

“Of course Sir.”

“How are the…” He begins and Soundwave, expressionless and neutral, stares. “How are the cribs coming along?” They seem pleased.

“Scrapper has submitted three potential designs. Would you like to review them?”

“Why? Aren’t they all the same? They’re flat, preferably with walls so the little things don’t roll out and break themselves.”

Soundwave is back to staring. Megatron considers Starscream’s company might be less oppressive.

“Send the designs over, I’ll take a look.”

“Of course. Lord Megatron.”

\---

He’s beginning to feel as though the medical bay has become his new command center. Spending more time in the dim sector, letting Hook - who has rebuilt and repaired him for years - become more personal with his anatomy than Megatron ever thought possible.

His request didn’t take long, but it did bring an additional look of apprehension from his medical officer as Hook tried to process what Megatron’s request could mean.

Having his internal controls of his spark chamber disabled was a quick procedure. Invasive and he growled low and long when Hook’s tools brushed the edge of The Left’s radial glow (sending the sparkling orb floating back to the shadow of Megatron’s own spark). It was best to avoid any further incidents with Starscream, so making it impossible for Megatron to freely open his chamber - especially when he did not wish to - was his best option.

Starscream would not be distracted for long and the better prepared he was to avoid mistakes - the better chance his twins had to be born before having to deal with the fallout of the unknowing sire.

Hook did not seem comfortable with the idea, but obeyed as was expected of him. Only briefly mentioning that if this was indeed Megatron’s wish that he would no longer able to freely look at his sparklings until the emergence.

Megatron accepted this without pause, and only quietly regretted not spending one last moment to take in their forms. Something he’d gotten into the habit of when at rest in his suite and the little ones would not calm. No longer would he have the ease of opening the chamber and speak to them as if they held any true ability to comprehend his words.

Hook had yet to complete his research on seeker development, but the quick glance at gathering metallico alloy like quicksilver in the lower portion of Megatron’s frame was a startling satisfaction. Hook gave him additional supplements and he went off to rest.

Only for The Right to decide now was the time to slam itself repeatedly against the chamber walls for hours until Megatron ran out of stories. Millions of years of war and discovery and he had nothing left to tell the brat!

“You’re too much like your sire already!” He informs the sparkling, feeling a strange disconnect to the pull on his spark and the lack of visual. The mirror now located in his room only served to remind Megatron of the strange ways in which his frame was changing. Subtle but he was not deaf to gossip - rumors of his overindulgence with their higrade supplies. He couldn’t address them properly until the twins had arrived, but oh was he keeping tabs on which of his oh-so-adoring soldiers felt comfortable enough to comment on his form.

After the fifth hour of The Right doing all in it’s power to make Megatron regret keeping the damn thing, he decides he requires a walk. Anything to attempt and calm the rattling light that dares to call itself HIS creation. Megatron can only hope The Right is some terrible war machine for all this trouble! It better have wings at least!

The Left remained still for the evening, hardly a budge...

Pacing the halls at a late hour, the discomfort of a “thumping” sparkling against his innermost core. It brings him to sympathize with whatever doomed creature brought Starscream into existence. He can’t imagine what hell Starscream brought as an actual fracture of another life force. He wouldn’t be surprised if the seeker consumed his carrier - sucking the life from innocent mechs from the start!

He has half a mind in that moment (The Right now spinning in tight circles back and forth back and forth until Megatron’s systems warned of an equilibrium malfunction) to find Starscream and inform him of his crimes! Order the seeker to tend to his own children! He’ll keep The Left, but probably shove The Right down into Starscream’s own spark, see how he likes it!

“Sir?”

Megatron looks down at the Decepticon he almost ran into. Dark halls and frustrated wanderings, a quick evaluation of the surroundings (the Nemesis where Megatron knows every corner) to see he’s standing in the corridor outside the communications hub.

Six soldiers watch him, some requiring a moment to bring themselves off the floor where they were seated. Awkward gathering, Megatron’s staring them down inspecting each and every one.

“Who is your supervisor?” He orders of the one who approached him. Though Megatron knows every Decepticon. Uploads their names, faces, alt modes and history as frequently as Soundwave.

“Bitstream is our immediate commander, Sir.” He salutes, Megatron does not.

“So where is HE?” Megatron motions towards the group, now looking caught in something - but no less than 3 sets of optics glanced nervously towards the shut entryway of the wing. “Why are you not at your stations?”

The Right lurches forward and Megatron manages to keep his composure for the moment - but it must have changed his expression from mild annoyance to outright upset.

“Well, Sir, My Lord --- We were --- Officer Bitstream is currently indisposed. Sir.”

Megatron takes two steps and he’s covering the pathetic excuse for a Decepticon in his shadow.

“I didn’t ask after his status,” He growls and the sparklings are strangely settled by it. “I asked for his location.” Of course Starscream’s pick would have the evening communication team sitting in the hall for---some reason. He’d have to set things right and have Soundwave down here to take over. Stress relief would at least come in fixing Starscream’s mistakes, and maybe even throttling the little---

“Inside. Sir.” The soldier motions to the hub door and Megatron was already making his way over. “But he’s not alone--”

The doors open with little sound, a gentle hiss no match for Megatron’s hulking pedes storming through. The communication hub was a large, oval space - overwhelmed with computers and flickering displays. Soundwave’s personal project as no other room on the Nemesis held such efficiency. A room built on dark lights and neatly bound wires where every abandoned station was a different territory, mapping the universe one Decepticon victory at a time.

It should be a room where Megatron might find peace, but of course he had to allow Starscream to dig his little claws in and ruin it for everyone. Once he located Bitstream and set the manic seeker right he’d---

A sound catches his attention, Megatron adjusts his sights for a finer look into the dark. Locates the source of the noise...and it feels as if something falls over the sparklings within him. Like a shield protecting them from the scalding anger which rises over Megatron's processors.

“Indisposed” apparently means kneeling on the floor between Starscream's spread legs. The red seeker bowed back over a console board, expression loose and wavering between the smallest gasps and frowns when Bitstream's bobbing helm shifts in certain direction. Blue claws look black where they spread and clench across Bitstream's shoulder which holds Starscream's leg at a higher angle. Giving obscene access to what is blocked by the seeker's thigh alone.

Megatron can certainly imagine where Bitstream's mouth is judging by the lecturing tone of Starscream's moan. Encouraging or disappointing in equal measure when he doesn't get what he wants. Carrying on with slithering Vosian phrases - utterly unaware of their seething audience.

Starscream's hips rock forward, a curling _oh_ slipping forth and Megatron almost puts his fist through the nearest wall.

“ **Get off him**.”

“Megatron?!” Starscream gives a high shriek and the sound of a panel snapping SHUT... followed immediately by Bitstream's yelp of pain. Fluttering backwards with a hand over his mouth and a dazed look of upset and confusion ending in terror as the dark blue seeker realizes they are not alone.

Megatron's vents flare with expulsion of heat, anger a rushing fire across his crooked face. It only takes one step towards them to send Bitstream to his feet, servo lowered and a splash of fuel from a bleeding glossa marks his mouth.

Starscream remains in his lax position, wearing only a look of annoyance and surprise at best. Clearly no more than inconvenienced!

“Sir!”

“Get. Out.” Orders the seeker and withholds an urge to strike the subordinate on his way out. Starscream tries to sit up as if to leave but Megatron pins him with a snarl. “Not you.” Starscream has the audacity to roll his helm and look bored.

Once the doors shut in Bitstream's exit Megatron can turn all attention to the seeker remaining. Horrified and infuriated with each passing klik of Starscream's passivity, staring Megatron down in turn.

“Well?” The seeker asks with no apparent care - but wings drawn tight to his back betray his true feelings on the matter.

“I am constantly stunned by your actions.” Megatron answers through a clenched jaw, trying best to organize spinning thoughts and emotions he did not have before. Was at least certain he did not have before. “This? This is how you hold command, by taking advantage of your subordinates?”

“Oh please! You're one to talk!” Starscream gives a hack of a scoff before his own anger at being interrupted bleeds through. Turning his lovely dark face into something cruel. “Watch what you accuse ME of, hypocrite.”

What did Megatron see? Another happily lapping at Starscream's offering, his seeker purring and pleased by another mech's attention. Tanks turn, his spark feels barbed and strangled and whatever was done to isolate his sparklings from this feeling - he hopes it remains until his thoughts are clear once more.

For now, Megatron can scarcely shake the want to chase down that blue seeker, tear him limb from limb and...and never before had Megatron thought to care about who else shared Starscream’s affections. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. Why was he so angry?

“And what is that supposed to imply?” He demands as Starscream outright laughs.

“How many times have I had to chase you out of the aviary when a new shiny trine joins us? You’re hardly one to pass judgement on using a subordinate. The ENTIRE faction is your subordinate!”

“That's different.” Megatron believes at least. Never on duty. Never so openly where anyone could simply stumble across them!

Of course he has to consider another obvious fact: that when he wanders into the seeker territory of the Nemesis, he's only ever looking for Starscream.

“I expect better from you!” Megatron bites back, fuming in the face of a careless serpent!

“Since when?!”

“Since…!”

Since the discovery of his sparklings. Since Megatron allowed Starscream closer than any before. Since he stood in his chambers alone and decided to allow their joint creations to grow and live and be a part of his future. All things Starscream does not know - and cannot be held accountable for.

Ah. Megatron has only himself to blame in this trouble and it's hardly a surprise really. He's not been capable of letting Starscream slip from his side before, how could he be expected to lose even more of the seeker now?

Starscream becomes fed up with the silence. He tries to step down from his leaning post but Megatron's wide grip catches him just beneath the canopy. Ignoring the sharp cry of surprise as he effortlessly hoists the kicking brat higher on the desk. It takes only one hand to hold him down and the other to rest almost gently against the curve of his dark jaw. Lording over that defiant sneer and denta cut sharp and threatening.

“Did you kiss him?” Starscream had kissed him. Has kissed him since the beginning. His mouth, his frame, to the softest nipping caress of his lips to the intimate places that caused Megatron's body to stiffen and bend to the seeker's mouth. He's kissed Starscream since the first time, pinning the terrible thing across an early war plan beneath Kaon. It’s such a simple thing, why now is he only realizing this?

Starscream clusters at the change in tone, as startled as even Megatron feels knowing there is no influence behind his sudden quiet voice. No sparklings trying to find their sire - only Megatron wanting to replace any other's touch from the seeker's frame.

“You’ve really gone mad haven't you?” A quiver of worry but Starscream is no longer fighting. Busy staring up at the mech who holds him down with no need to struggle.

“I asked you a question, soldier.” Wings flicker just behind bright shoulders and Megatron resists leaning over to give them a bite. Far too enthralled in the softening of Starscream's face, thin mouth now a curved frown unguarded by his anger. “Did you?”

“Do I ever?”

With luck Starscream meets him halfway and they skip their usual clash and battle. No biting fangs or poorly angled chins to send them grunting and struggling to make themselves fit. Their kiss is sealed and inseparable, even as Megatron's glossa is sucked into a demanding mouth. A warm slide of damp and sharp where they meet, unprepared to release or lose even a second against one another. A soft hum and low gasp, servos clenched and grabbing where they can - hardly blind in the dark as they know each other without thought at this point.

Starscream's legs wind their way around Megatron's midsection, squeezing tight while mouths finally trail apart. Heat overwhelms their cramped space, Starscream's neat frame fitting so perfectly in hand while the seeker vibrates. Needy and warm. He searches for the hinge of Starscream's hip. Fingers large but well trained to the thin seams, find where to stroke and press just inside the meeting of plates until his seeker was hissing. Frustrated with the touch that did no more than tease. Servos now spread wide and possessive over red hips. Chest piece gives a quiet strain, but does not open. Good. Now was not the time for embarrassing mishaps. Now was only for Megatron to stroke upwards on the slim frame, cup his chest and scrape denta across the bulge of his form.

“Are you crazy?!” Starscream's voice alone complains while his body is all but welded to the slightest rocking against Megatron's own frame. “They'll know!”

They, being the group of officers now joined by Bitstream, likely waiting to be let back to their work. Starscream was right. If Megatron did his job right then they would certainly know exactly what was transpiring behind closed doors. They'd know exactly what Megatron was doing to his Second, only confirming years of rumors and gossip. Making years of secrecy and want of privacy worthless.

“Let them know.” He growls against the curve of Starscream’ throat - spark swelling possessive and wanting. The only hindrance to his plans being the sudden appearance of sharp claws. Delicate across Megatron's chest plate, paired with a curious glance at the flat seam as Starscream seems to hesitate.

“What about before?”

“I told you, that was nothing.”

“And they say I'm a bad liar.” Huffs, turning his face away from Megatron's reach, glaring to the side. It gives Megatron a moment to run a short diagnostic, ensure his children were still connected. Only waiting for whatever veil protected them from his emotional surge to drop. Convenient.

“Tomorrow.” He assures, their destination a mere jump away. This could be the last time he's able to hold Starscream like this. The last time he will be allowed to manipulate those elegant lines, touch him. He doesn't want to waste it. “You said before, that if I wanted you I should tell you.” The straight line of Starscream's mouth twitches against a smile, prideful thing. “And I have been wanting you.”

“Oh. Is that so?”

Megatron answers by smoothing his palm shameless between the seeker's legs. While digits trace the long flat panel until Starscream gives a gasp, his thumb presses to the higher mechanism. Starscream's codpiece detailed in the same flashy red, warm and humming beneath his touch. The weight of his hand seems to startle the other, blinking optics return to face him as Megatron makes his intentions known.

“I want you.” Repeats, pressing with more demand until he felt gears shift with the same hissing sound as Starscream above. The spike panel giving a stuttered pull, struggling not to open.

“I can?” His seeker sounds breathless and it gives Megatron a chance to trace the detailed lines of intersecting plates that travel beneath red eyes. Finally reaching the once again soft mouth where he places his thumb on the lower lip.

“How do you want me?”

Starscream doesn't have to be told twice and Megatron finds himself flustered by the eagerness in which his seeker takes to his new task.

\---

It happened again.

This time Megatron isn't bothering to feel ashamed or embarrassed over his willingness to follow Starscream's command. Letting him steer his body until Megatron was contorted like an arch above his excited seeker until Starscream's hips reached low enough on Megatron's body.

His thick arms braced and framed on either side of Starscream's head, fists clenching at the first press against exposed damp mesh. Megatron recalls cradling the back of Starscream's helm while the seeker leveraged against him, the cautiously building rock inside his form while Starscream dared to hush him with doting phrases.

On their first overload they dented a console. One the second it was broken through completely by Megatron's first as Starscream thrust high and hard into him. Tender inner nodes unused to such treatment that Megatron's sights flashed and he allowed Starscream to so recklessly expend his own charge inside him like the first time. Slighter frame so wonderfully talented as he dared to think his own pleasure was priority for Starscream. A wide expression on the seeker’s face when they were left spent and slouching back into the broke console. Blue claws clinging to his armor - legs still tangled where their remained connected in such intimate ways.

Not wanting to part.

He was already sparked, what's the worst that could happen?

Turns out, Soundwave's expression is the worst that could happen as he met the officer just outside of his own habsuite. Starscream and he went their separate ways late in the night. Sharing a lingering glance at their destruction (Starscream laughed) and found with some relief their waiting officers had relocated - likely due to Starscream's rather vocal performance.

“Did something good occur?” Soundwave asks, tone stiff and telling of their clear knowledge of exactly what happened. Megatron is only careful not to meet their visor.

“No.” Lies, spark still swimming from the after affects of his night. Having watched Starscream walk away, sufficiently worn and satisfied, with black scuffs across his wings and waist.

Of course Soundwave does not believe him as one of the first notifications Megatron woke to was information on required repairs to the communications hub. He did have to wonder how far news of his evening with Starscream had gotten. Decepticons were bored things when not engaged in battle. Gossip involving high command tends to spread faster.

Again. He can't be bothered to care, stepping onto the bridge to the rise of his present soldiers. Respect and curiosity in their faces. With any luck news of their defiling the hub would be seen as a threat to any others who might have additional interest in their Second in Command.

“Lord Megatron.” Speaking of, Starscream is a pretty, polished picture standing at his throne. Not a scratch of proof from last night's activities on him. Though Megatron mourns the transfers, the shape of his denta plate pressed into the seeker's collar, he can't help but greet Starscream with easy familiarity. Taking his seat in a wide circle just to make eye contact with the other, let the gaze linger so Starscream is well aware he is not going to pretend the evening away.

“Are we set to jump?”

“The Tragedy and Last Resort have confirmed. Our travel is at your pleasure.” Starscream responds and just below Megatron watches Skywaro slap Thundercracker with a twisted grin.

“At yours.” Megatron settles in his throne and watches with delight as Starscream gives the proceeding orders. Hips swaying in easy motion as he addresses the stations below. Voice firm and commanding.

The Right has been a mess that morning, The Left has been more energetic and their carrier is equal measures of both. Absorbed in thought of Starscream and the eventual dramatics. Letting the seeker once again lay claim to his body, eagerly and openly this time with better preparation. It had been a new experience entirely - one he found he could not help but smile for. Perhaps there was a chance things could find their way to a better opportunity for Starscream and himself...

“Engaging quantum generators.” Thundercracker nods and just as the ship begins to vibrate from the surge of power Megatron catches Starscream's gaze once more. Examining. Curious. Switching to playful at the last moment before gripping the dais railing as the display of space around them begins to distort. The roaring engines deafening briefly followed by a sharp whine and a lurch of their surroundings.

It takes mere seconds to travel across a universe, arriving with a gasp of machinery and a low buzz of rebooting systems catching up to their new location. Displays flicker to life to reveal the territory Thora 544, waiting for its new Decepticon rule…

Megatron just makes it to Starscream before the awaiting sky full of Autobot gunships open fire.


	4. Choices Given

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I beg your forgiveness if my inability to write battle scenes is distressingly apparent. I try.
> 
> Pls also let that be a reminder this is rated mature for canon typical violence, meaning war and somewhat descriptive injury. So if you are squeamish over such things, be aware. Thanks <3

 

Servos clench on either side of Starscream’s shrinking frame, holding to the railing as the first barrage of cannon fire reaches them. Soldiers below are scattered from their stations, knocked from pedes and their seats as the second round follows swiftly. He catches Starscream’s weight against his chest, wings and elbows clattering against thick armor but they remain standing. Starscream tense where he’s pressed back into the curved weight. Wings a vibrating sensation alongside his torso.

The bridge lights flare red, a warning alarm like a titan’s scream somehow more startling than the Autobot ships first attack. Starscream’s servo clings to his wrist, small in comparison, and both sparklings are still - almost vanishing from Megatron’s senses.

“They weren’t supposed to be here.” Starscream’s voice pierces the shriek of alarm and sudden mayhem below and he’s elbowing Megatron off and away as screens appear like blossoming stars across the lower stations. Soldiers are yelling, calling for one another - communicating with other pieces of the ship as before them ten Autobot cruisers begin to draw forward.

“Soundwave!”

“Shields holding at 70%. Minimal damage to Port Bow.” They answer and Starscream flashes between them, already leaping from the dais steps and joining his trine below.

“I want The Last Resort to fan wide!” Starscream orders, motioning to the nearest communication officer who shrinks under the next attack. The Nemesis rocked to the side as they try to pull back and out of range. “We’re dead if they circle us!” Megatron does not copy Starscream’s jump down the steps but is at his side just as quickly. Moving to examine what few specs of their enemy they can gather at a glance.

“I thought our fleet was waiting, not Autobots?” Skywarp’s voice holds no obvious signs of concern, but Thundercracker grips the back of his wingmate’s hip regardless.

“We’re at a disadvantage by numbers.” Megatron speaks, reviewing the information skittering across holodisplays and Soundwave’s flat voice updating every few moments - their announcements flooding the speaker system commanding engineers to where they’re needed most.

“They weren’t supposed to be here.” Megatron turns to look at Starscream as the seeker repeats himself. Optics blown wide and there’s a certain tremor in his wings. A lesser mech might see it as Starscream succumbing to fear before an imposing force, the heavy rock and sway of the ship as they continue to take on direct fire.

Megatron knows it’s not fear.

It’s anger.

“We’ll have time to discuss that later.” His voice seems to pull his Second from the daze as the red glare returns. A quiet snarl of sharpened teeth when Megatron reaches over to only press the palm of his hand at the juncture of Starscream’s wings. “For now, clear **our** skies.”

Starscream is beautiful when he smiles, especially when that joy is brought on by a loosening of the chain. Unleashed upon their enemies with a promise of sweet havoc. He smiles and doesn’t leave Megatron’s focus ordering his trine out - Soundwave accepting an additional barking order.

Above the announcements change, overlapping voices as a new order inserts itself **SEEKERS TAKE FLIGHT**. All around them the walls and outer corridors now flooded with scrambling soldiers light up - a sharp blue line in contrast to the dark shoulder high to Megatron’s height. Decepticons immediately duck, holding themselves below the line as they move and the roar of multiple engines spark across Megatron’s proximity field. Coneheads and lesser trines leaping into the air and transforming in smooth motion. Rocketing over hunched heads and crouched ground pounders to reach their destination.

“Don’t stand by any windows.” Starscream tells him, teasing as he backs into Skywarp’s waving touch. Separating Megatron’s touch from his shoulder. “Be ready with the big guns.”

“Go.” The Left gives a pull as if they wish to go with Starscream and Megatron sympathizes - watching the violet crackle of light surround, distort, and take the three from him. Skywarp grin a worrisome sight as they fade and Starscream , he swears, giving a wink.

“Lord Megatron.” Soundwave remains on the throne platform surrounded in floating displays. Images of crowded soldiers taking their stations behind intricate weaponry. A distant view of Last Resort falling back to escape the Autobot’s attempt to cluster them. The hangar now vibrating like a violent sea of wings and flaring thrusters just as Starscream and his trine appear.

That’s the image Soundwave chooses to place on the largest display as below battlestations are filled. Seekers quick to fall in line as massive bay doors stretch wide and Starscream begins barking his orders. Commanding chromatic trines to focus fire on defense - Rainmakers to the enemy engines “I want something to explode” he orders and there’s a certain thrilled cheering before the aerialforce pours from the ship like spilled fuel off a table’s edge and into the wild atmosphere of cannon fire and chaos.

“Seekers will focus on drawing fire,” Megatron steps back to his throne, standing before it so his voice is projected and clear. “Connect me to the Tragedy and Last Resort - free fire on ships in closest proximity!”

There’s a chorus of yessirs and dangerous growls, a roar or two and Megatron squeezes his fists behind his back at attention rather than seek to comfort the rattling sparks withdrawn deep against his own core. Visuals flashing before them, the buzzing of stations and running soldiers as three great ships begin moving to position. The rattling of the Nemesis staving off the worst of damages while there’s a sudden flurry of crackling gunfire from their side now.

“Where is OUR fleet?!” He roars and Soundwave looks at a loss on how to answer.

Seekers swarm and draw fire, in close knit shadows they attack swinging turrets and begin a vicious assault beneath the enemy shields. Like parasites pulling, tearing, rending gun mounts useless one by one across the Autobot armada.

Flashes of light and fire when they don’t make it. A running feed of numbers and designations blinking out in red once their sparks are snuffed.

Soundwave waves their servo as tendrils pour from their frame, interconnecting with the nearest consoles for better control. Rumble and Frenzy appear at their pedes, small expressions at being unable to help more than stabilizing their creator’s legs when the Nemesis sways in damage.

Megatron decides then, resources be damned, his next alt mode will have wings.

Proximity alerts scream as Starscream leads a line of seekers in a wide spiral around one Autobot cruiser, enemy gunfire narrowly missing the tight knit of his soldiers - jets creating a ribbon of flashing colors as they wind around the enemy ships. Dropping sleek missiles and rhythmic fire across the surface, enemy gunstations erupting like popped flares.

“Incoming! Port quarter!” A flash of light from the nearest planet surface, both brilliant an blinding, streaks across the display missing the Nemesis by a meager prayer as it trails beneath them: striking The Tragedy dead across the bow. Shields fold like a echo reverberating in the atmosphere - crumpling the battleship inwards as flames flare and fan back in a wave of destruction.

“The Tragedy, requesting assistance. Shields compromised. Ship integrity compromised.”

 _”Starscream to Nemesis!”_ The sparklings stir as their sire’s voice crackles over the speakers. _”Starscream to--ANSWER the fracking line!”_ Megatron bypasses Soundwave’s connections and puts the call through himself, squeezing the console with relief to hear the brat’s voice.

“Starscream, what WAS that?”

 _”Surface gunners! Plasma cannon: a ranged ship-sinker!”_ He sounds exhausted, the roar of engines  even louder as the autobots deployed their single sky fighters. Lacking the grace of seekers, but still a terrible thing to see already so overwhelmed in the skies. _”You have to pull back and get the Nemesis out of range before they recharge!”_

“You would retreat?!”

 _”Don’t start that with me! LOOK!”_ Starscream uploads a file, his visuals hazy and weak with overuse. Amid the devastation and slaughtered mechs of both sides fluttering across his view came the other side of a moon and a gruesome sight: A graveyard of broken Decepticon ships. Floating, beaten and tethered by the lightest gravitational force, like corpses poorly swept beneath a rug. _"We never won here- this was just a trap."_

The already fragile morale of the bridge changes drastically upon seeing countless cruisers, battleships and combat destroyers left to rust in the void of space.

_”I only can read one main gun - you might have eight minutes if lucky! We’ll cover the retreat.”_

“We will not run like beaten dogs!” Megatron’s pride battles his tactical sense. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and out done by a greater weapon - but they had overcome worse before!

“Starscream.” Soundwave spoke quickly, voice edged with strain as even their processing powers were stretched thin. “A withdraw will leave the majority of your seekers abandoned. You cannot keep pace and our long range weaponry cannot cover you.”

Megatron felt his anger slip away, sense and strategy taking its place.

 _”Are we really arguing about this?! I’m sending the bulk of my force to regroup with The Last Resort and telling them to take off! Get. The Nemesis. Out of range and GO!”_ He cuts the line, Soundwave wavering in the aftermath before turning their focus to Megatron. To the bridge awaiting orders as they all scramble to try and maintain proximity to the fight without putting the flagship in greater danger. A countdown had already appeared on the display, kliks ticking away to the next disastrous attack.

The number of online seekers steadily declining, a shared order shivering its way through the ranks. Megatron felt The Left sink and he slammed his fist upon the platform railing and left it bent and broken.

“Is Astrotrain still onboard?”

“Affirmative.”

“Send him to the hangar. I want any cargo fliers or shuttles not engaged to swing by The Tragedy. Save who they can and be on-board in less than 6 minutes.”

“Sir?!” Soundwave’s voice cracks, leaning over the console as Megatron rushes towards the exit. “Intentions!?”

If fate is trying to make him choose between abandoning his soldiers or risking the Nemesis: Megatron will carve a third option into existence. “I’m going to the surface to take out that gun.”

 

He keeps the timer of Starscream’s estimation bright and loud on his HUD and ignores Astrotrain’s quiver of fear as he departs from the hangar. He is not fast, not stealthy, but armor is thick and with the chaos focused on the seekers and taking out the remaining two Decepticon ships: the ride down is marred only by automatic guns firing when they reach proximity.

His spark pulse climbs, the sparklings beneath are all but hidden within the edges of his core, and Megatron can only run a calming breath through his ventilation systems. Dim optics as Astrotrain’s form is flung about in dodging maneuvers, cursing wild and free despite his cargo. From open bay doors Megatron watches the aerial battle commence. Twisting streams of lights and fire bursts, the rattling of gunfire and death as chaos sings a tragic symphony while ships burn and sink in the distance. It is the destructive song he was reborn in, the mayhem of war and expansion rightfully conducted by his forces who only wished for their mark in the universe to reverberate. Endless and absolute.

It was all for a lineage he had not truly imagined until recently. ..

“I will ask for your forgiveness now as this is not going to be a good idea.” He apologizes to the sparklings churn within a brief moment of quiet as an incoming missile whistles its way past. Skirting Astrotrain’s wing and sending them into a death spiral as his transport struggled to regain control of himself. “I will do all in my power to keep you safe, but this must be done." 

He takes a running start and leaps from the open doors, Astrotrain curving off and away, avoiding drones littering the skies with needle like artillery as his form is too small to be seen in comparison. The speed in which he’s falling is exactly just enough to send his systems into a wild ride, flooding his HUD with alerts, warnings, percentages of danger and imminent demise. Megatron continues to dismiss them, watching the clock as below he can finally make out the shape of the large weapon - the crackle of pale light building within a cylindrical tower. The pronged frame of the massive weapon pointed at the sky where the scream of engines and shattering stars continue to play violent and endless.

“Hold tight.” It is only a comfort to himself when he orders the living specs within. Swinging legs until pedes are back under him, right arm fighting pressure and turbulence to get the fusion cannon pointed downwards - its own angry charge lost in the swelling of wind and war above: praying this works.

Below he sees the station manning the great weapon, he sees dots of scattering soldiers who have yet to notice him falling from above. Endless enemies rushing between stretched bases and lesser mounted guns. He sees power lines like rivers cutting across the planet’s surface where the inhabitants sacrificed the integrity of their base for the ship-sinker and its needs. He feels the vibration of heat scorch the air in his approach as the machine powers up yet again.

He checks the timer. One minute.

Less.

He fires.

The fusion cannon burns the surrounding air in violet light, kickbacks against the rush of air as he fires mid-fall. His form is slapped back by the rush, sending him aimless across the space while he catches the tail-end of the discharge: following the streak of blade-thin light until it meets with the intended target. The power-core of the cannon swelling with energy and greedy light as it prepares to fire on the Nemesis and smear them from the history books.

_”Megatron!”_

The hit lands and the following sound deafens as Megatron is met with the force of the explosion. Unprotected he’s slapped across the open skies with no grasp of direction - only the searing pain which tears across his chest plate. His frame rattles and pulls in ways it should _not_ and something is wrong.

Blind. Deaf. He knows he’s falling only when the ground reaches up to throw him asunder. Something snaps, breaks away, tears and he’s rolling. Smoke and scorched wiring while Megatron battles with panicked protocols and flaring panels trying to slow down his rolling crash. He loses a pauldron in the mess, his leg twists back in jaw clenching pain and Megatron trusts instinct alone on when to reach out and grasp the first thing he can. Fingers digging into hard terrain as body continues to skid across earth and rocky soil. Seemingly catching on every possible hindrance as he tries to transform to give more for the ground to grasp.

Friction eventually wins, processor spinning as he comes to a grinding stop facedown in rocks and broken earth. Self-repair engaged and already locking down various functions bleeding out across his exposed inner structure where his armor was not strong enough against the blast. Sights coming online when Megatron pushes himself onto his back with a long snarl of pain. His body is steaming and blackened from the explosion - but he is still alive.

The large fracture across his lower torso however - leaking fuel and giving a nauseous  _crunch_  every time he shifted - was not looking great.

“Right? Report in.” He orders, voice hoarse and cutting every sound short as a dented vocalizer would be last on self repair's list.

The Right tugs on its tether to let its carrier know it was still there while Soundwave’s communications failed to reach him. Just a flickering alert dying beneath the stacking warnings.

“Good soldier. Now. Left. You still with us?” A pause. Nothing. “Left you will report in imm--” All around him the ground sparks in laser fire, the incoming cry of charging troops regaining footing from the ship-sinker’s destruction. Megatron offlines damage sensation in his torso, clutching his chest plate which clattered as he rose, and sought the nearest cover as Autobot soldiers began to appear before the backdrop of a burning tower.

The fusion cannon was mostly undamaged, thankfully, and cut a clean line across their approach. Eradicating a percentage of the immediate threat before Megatron could fall back to a rock formation - then proceeded to slip in his own spilling fuel pouring freely down his legs.  
  
Enemy regrouping, their orders a scattered cry over the horizon as Megatron shifts around the rock shelter, aiming the fusion cannon once more before they can reach him.

Starscream flies into his sights, pulling back at the last moment while pale wings cover a screaming Autobot. The flash of blue claws ripping something free followed by screeched surprise as the seeker leaps back from the falling soldier and catches himself mere feet above. Aiming dual arm mounts at the enemy now struggling to retreat to the safety of fortress lines to avoid Starscream's wildfire.

One isn’t fast enough and the seeker speeds midair, catching the retreating form just beneath the helm as legs bend and crouch on his back knocking him down. There’s a wet squeal as Starscream’s arm flings back, torn components dangling from claws, while the freed arm continues laying down suppressing fire. Sending heads snapping back with his efficient aim and bodies tripping over themselves to get out of range.

Megatron pulls himself back behind cover, listening to the outcries of pain and death, of Starscream’s finely tuned engines searing across the field before overhead he appears, the space around him lit with returning fire of crouching Autobots brave now that they have better cover.

“What was that?!” Starscream lands with a snarl beside him, folding his wings back to keep out of danger while trying his best to lean out - guns all but startled whispers in the chaos around them only building as more soldiers could be heard joining the fray.

“Buying you time.” Megatron tries to lift himself back to his knees but it’s no good - systems due to crash at the loss of fuel now soaking the ground around them. Starscream notices only when he turns back - anger dissipates with horror when realizing he’s kneeling in the darkened fluid.

“Primus….you’re…” He has to duck down as a streak of heavier artillery unleashes above and shows no sign of stopping. Their temporary cover is compromised, falling apart in crumbling sprays of rock and heat.

“How did you find me?”

“I followed the sound of your stupidity!” Starscream folds himself over Megatron’s lap, servos steeped with gore, but doesn’t think twice before diving claw first into the wreckage of Megatron’s abdomen. His face doing very little to comfort Megatron’s concern.

“Astrotrain--”

“Astrotrain got shot and barely made it out of range before your careless stunt!” Starscream pulls something from subspace but his wings are too wide and a shot skims their pale length. His cry is sharp and he’s folding closer to Megatron’s bent knee unable to do much more. “Skywarp! I need you!” His weight is pressed down on the open wound now the length of his arm - free bleeding and beginning to smoke as nanites begin to self destruct trying to clot the injury with their own microscopic bodies, building up like a dam.

_”We’re taking heavy surface fire! Did you KNOW there were MORE down HERE?! You know where the BASES ARE!”_

“Teleport you idiot!”

_”I can’t chance it! You don’t --- enough room --- could get shot and then --- we're all fu----!!”_

The Left shifts in place as Starscream’s canopy brushes Megatron’s chassis, cramped and uncomfortable where even dulled sensors cannot keep out the agony now spreading across his frame. Dying repair tech only means the rest of his injuries were left un-managed and Megatron can feel his fuel lines choke and systems overcome by damage and pain.

“You have to surge your spark.” Starscream is looking wild now as the enemy draws closer. The scattered rocks at their pedes jump with the approaching vibrations of larger machines. “You’ll be spark sick for it later but a surge will at least startle the bleed and buy us time!”

Megatron sets his jaw and The Left pulls again.

“I can’t do that.”

“Yes you can! You have before!” Starscream yells and covers Megatron’s helm as heavy fire sends rock and debris scattering overhead. “It’s not ideal but we have to get to a location Skywarp can reach us so just---”

_Please do not put your heirs at further unnecessary risk if you so choose to maintain their growth._

“I won’t.”

“You idiot you’re going to die here if you don’t!” Starscream’s voice is somehow louder than the missiles overheard - the beginnings of seekers reaching the surface to engage with the enemy. But it’s not enough, they’re still trapped until Skywarp has a clear spot to teleport into. And Primus help him, Starscream looked afraid in the chaos, claws fighting to keep the fuel lines attached with his own desperate grip. Failing to keep Megatron alive. “Why won’t you?!”

“Because I’m carrying.” He speaks rather calmly over the flashing warnings across his HUD. “And I have no guarantee that a surge won’t kill them.”

Megatron doesn’t know what to expect when Starscream’s anger-tense face falls. His optics blown with light and mouth going lax from his intention to argue with whatever Megatron was planning to say. He’s staring now, somewhere far from the hellscape of their current situation, the enemy just over the ridge and soon upon them. They didn’t have time for this, but you don’t always get what you want in this life.

“You’re lying.” He gapes and Megatron shakes his head while the seeker forgets anything else and glares at Megatron’s chestplate. “Prove it. Open it!" 

“I can’t.”

“Then you’re a liar!”

“I can’t because it’s been disabled!” He finds irritation at the edges of true concern, not that he would expose the sparks in the middle of a battle. It’s almost humorous that even if he wanted to: he couldn’t. "If I got too close to you--" 

"That was your spark chamber before?" Starscream winces, seems unable to break focus with the sealed chest plate. "That would mean you were ---for how long---and I'm ---"  
  
"Yes." It was the simplest answer he could give.

An Autobot appears around their shelter and Starscream has to release the fuel line - discharging a furious barrage of gunfire shredding their attacker’s face into wet bits before they even had a chance to pull their trigger. Those red optics fall back to him once more, almost pleading for Megatron to admit to a lie.

“I wouldn’t lie to you about this, you know that.” Megatron grabs Starscream’s collar, yanks him in before his wings were caught in the following pour of laser fire scalding the rocks around them. “Believe me or not, I won’t put them at risk! We will find another way!”

What is merely a klik or two, Starscream framed in gunfire and hell, feels endless as Megatron bears the full weight of his seeker’s stare. The dawning realization, the struggle of belief, resignation or surrender - something between terror and disgust. It’s all so apparent on Starscream’s features that truly he wonders if he sees more within the other because Starscream has shown him: or because he’s always been looking.

“You’re an absolute bastard.”

Megatron’s not given a chance to respond as Starscream is turning focus back towards the skies, connecting to Skywarp with a gentle touch of his helm.

“Skywarp. Lock on Megatron’s position - I want you in and out in less than a klik got it?”

 _”But I can’t---Oh--Yea ok.”_ Unspoken understanding and the seeker withdraws from Megatron entirely.

“You won't have more than a moment of clear space. Ready?" 

_"Yes."_

“Starscream what are you doing?!” He reaches for the seeker but is unable before Starscream kicks off from the ground with the best of his speed. His pale form framed in red is torn into by gunfire sending him off course - wings beginning to shred from the constant volley and clambering Autobots at the first sign of something to _hit_ and Megatron feels something break within him.

There’s a sharp sound in the empty space beside him, just enough room for Skywarp to fit and dig claws into Megatron’s form.

“Don’t!” Above Starscream soars and begins to coil, smoke pouring from tattered wings -- and Skywarp’s teleportation wipes the sight as his body goes light and suddenly gone.

 

On-board the Nemesis there is only chaos. Increased by Skywarp’s crash landing in the medbay and the whirl of outrage and panic once his passenger was recognized. Hook barks orders and there are medics scrambling away from other twisted forms. Of seekers half alive or broken remnants of The Tragedy’s crew.

“Sir!” Skywarp has fuel spilled across his wings and looks shaken but Megatron can’t care now.

“Go back AND GET HIM!”

Skywarp flickers out before Megatron has a medic plunging a long syringe into the open wound, his body convulsing as a viscous solvent is trying to flush the piling nanotech out of the way that’s begun to rot his fuel lines.

“No!” Hook grapples another mech who moved closer with sparking cables, frightening all that Megatorn could see in the daze of pain and delirium. “No! He’s sparked! Proceed with utmost caution!”

Megatron feels the ship’s engines change, the fluttering of a charge as Soundwave’s voice can be heard above the medics now struggling to know how to carry on.

**Quantum jump activated. Brace for turbulent reentry of-- ******

“No!” Megatron likely broke a mech’s arm, pushing him away with an unknown injection. “Hook! Belay that order!”

“Sir I can’t!” Servos press on Megatron’s struggling form and all at once his body betrays him - reactivating sensors as priority shifts to keeping his spark alive. He lets out a roar, thrashing back until his helm strikes against the bench beneath, Hook and Scavenger doing their best to hold him down. “We have to sedate you! You’re going to enter forced stasis if you don’t and I can’t protect the---”

“Where! IS Starscream?!”

“Please My Lord you must---”

“Why are you STILL AWAKE?!”

A sharp pain manages to cut through the agony encasing the rest of him. Four lean claws striking him across his writhing snarls and spitting threats. Giving Megatron only a singular focus as Starscream stands abruptly at his side, wings torn open and fuel pouring down his dislodged arm. Only managing to stand thanks to Skywarp's presence offering strength, the purple wings scattered with lesser injury, but both standing there alive nonetheless.

“Starscream...” The Right and Left squirm with greater power than Megatron expected while the seeker before him curls a lip, looking more tired than angry.

“Set course for Cybertron.” Starscream huffs, looking back down at Megatron. "We'll talk later." Before stabbing Megatron in the exposed cables of his throat with the sedative.

 

 


	5. Collaborate

\---

He wakes to Shockwave’s voice a distance sound.

“You are aware that this Division has a problem taking orders from any other than Megatron.”

“He’ll obey this.” Starscream responds, a clattering of keys and voice cold. “So you tell that theatrical sycophant to bring me the ones responsible - Alive. If I see so much as a chew mark on a singular brain module I’ll make him eat that shameful mask of his. I want to deal with them myself, understood?”

“I’m on your side, Starscream.” Shockwave reassures though hardly soothing in his emptied tone. “And what of Megatron’s...condition?”

“Stable.” Megatron thinks that’s good to know at least. What with his body aching something terrible - the feeling of peeled back armor and freshly welded components like a fragile vice on a gaping wound. He did not feel whole or healed, but stable would have to suffice. “We’ll finish necessary repairs shortly and continue the journey to you, be ready for us.”

“Of course. Until then.” There’s a soft hush as the communication ends, returning them to odd silence as the repetitive “glug” of liquid and chirp of machinery takes the forefront of Megatron’s awareness. Without bringing visuals online he feels a berth beneath him, more comfortable than what was available in the medical suite. Familiar wear shaped for his broad frame and Megatron knows he’s in his quarters.

The Left and Right begin to squirm, waking from their own strange form of recharge. Like nuzzling freckles of energy brushing his spark, shifting in the limited space of their cradle to wish him good morning it seems. Thankful that his children allowed his weary body to sleep rather than kick-start his day with the usual hi-jinks.

“Don’t be awake, I’m not ready to deal with you just yet.” Starscream calls from across the dark and that alone gives him reason to look. As suspected his room awaits him, medical equipment stacked up like fortress walls. Too many tubes and monitors adhered to his frame, slithered beneath panels, puncturing fuel lines and sealed joints. He feels swollen and misaligned - frame not responding how he wants while sitting up.

“I believe I’ve rested long enough.” Leaning back against the headboard is a mistake as a sharp pain claws its way up exposed circuitry, the sensors raw and flaring in discomfort where no armor remained to protect the infrastructure. Megatron grits his teeth against the harsh sensation, ignoring the pain to carry on his usual production of indifference to hurt.

Across the room now crowded with far too much equipment, Starscream watches. It should comfort him to know the seeker didn’t offline him in anger while he slept - but he can only openly observe the other’s form. The patch job across his wings, mismatched solder lines in dark metal contrasting painfully with the pale coloring. The plating of his left side no longer the fashionable red but replaced with a standard sets hoarded by the seeker medics. Frame unpainted or polished while he seemed a crude amalgamation of his former self and a stock model. Dented and scuffed, hammered and welded back together: an insult to Starscream’s usual vanity.

Megatron recalls the way Starscream’s body was battered and pierced by incoming enemy fire as he tried to give Megatron a chance to escape. His tanks fall ill with the memory, but more so that Starscream’s glare was no longer clouded by naivety. He knew.

“The Nemesis took notable damage to the engines before we were able to retreat.” Starscream’s voice is so far removed from what they should be addressing that it’s almost painful. “We were forced to abandon route to Cybertron mid-journey or risk losing the whole generator. Repairs are underway, thankfully it’s nothing that can’t be patched.”

“What of Thora?”

“We were betrayed.” He notices Starscream is not looking him in the eye, his stare only caught on the breadth of Megatron’s chest plate where two sparklings send pulses of bothersome need of _something_ that’s difficult to ignore. Starscream collects himself, shifts focus to the damning news he seems bitter to share. “Soundwave is still working on it - uncovering the lengths of the deception. We know a Decepticon brigade assigned to the assault defected. Whether under threat of death or simply offered a better option. We’re still gathering identities but they were capable enough to assist Autobots in the manipulation of our transmissions. Made it seem like the falsified reports of our victory there were confirmed by various sources.”

“So we didn’t think to question it.” Megatron feels he understands, wondering how much could have been prevented if he’d simply ordered Soundwave to take over communications? He shouldn’t have trusted a lesser officer to command such a task. Starscream chose wrong and it cost them.

But Megatron had allowed it.

“I already have contacted Deathsaurus and his armada cyberforming Xaraxxs to take focus on the territory. He wasn’t happy about it but upon learning what occurred it’s understood losing ground in Xaraxxs is worth wiping Thora out. To set an example. Your fan club will be handling gathering the traitors.”

“Thora is not either their mission.” Chest rumbles in disagreement and aches all the same, but Starscream hardly looks disturbed.

“As standing Commander whatever I say is his mission is his mission. Same with your Doting Jester Division. They’ll obey my orders so long as you’re out of action.” The shame of defeat, of betrayal, is wretched enough - but to have Starscream talking down to him while tiptoeing around what he doesn’t want to say is insulting. It’s possible, as it is petty enough, that Starscream believes if he doesn’t mention the obvious he doesn’t have to face it.

“I’m sparked, Starscream. Not invalid.” Megatron decides to force his hand, not in the mood for games and oh how Starscream’s optics thin with upset at his dare.

“I see no difference.” _Scathing_ is the word to describe his second. Now safe from imminent desolation the seeker has regained his ability to hiss and sneer rather than look at Megatron both hurt and furious. That moment shared on the battlefield so raw in Megatron’s thoughts that looking at him now, Starscream seems an entirely different creature.

“We have things to discuss.”

“Oh?” Starscream remains across the suite, braced against the computers and equipment dragged in weeks ago. Megatron has to wonder what the seeker felt upon entering his room? Seeing the proof of his “condition” stuffed and hidden away just under his nose. Was he offended? Insulted? Hurt? “And where would you like to start - that you lied to me? That you put _my_ creations in danger because you had to play the hero?”

“I wouldn’t have allowed anything to happen.”

“No! I didn't allow anything to happen! You almost got yourself killed!” Wings flare upwards at the outburst, The Left begins to spin. “Then what good would you have been? Nothing more than a burnt husk while they shriveled inside!” Starscream points at Megatron’s chest as swiftly as raising a blade in accusation. “Your pride is insulting!”

“Are you lecturing Me on pride?!” Sitting up further only aggravates his condition. Pulling on the fresh repairs and clamped lines tediously holding him together.

“I’m yelling at your pride,” Starscream draws closer, anger overriding his indignation. “But I’m lecturing you on stupidity!”

“Enough.” Voice raised more than feels comfortable against the strained system. “Your childish behavior won’t change what happened.”

“MY childish behavior?” Starscream was upon him now and Megatron believed for a moment the seeker might just open fire. He’d seen that twisted glare plenty times before. “You’re the one who hid MY children from ME!”

“For their safety!” Megatron goes to catch Starscream’s wrist, expecting no other outcome than the other finally making a move into physical violence. It was unfortunately predictable, he thought. They yelled, they hated, they harmed each other. An endless cycle when raised voices weren’t enough to solve the problem.

To his surprise, Starscream never moves to strike. Though wings are still raised in threat, his arms remain at the side, his expression is one of vacancy.

“You think I’d run away, abandon my responsibility - Or that I'd hurt my own creations? Do you think so little of me?” Comes the unexpected query and the absence of anger in Starscream’s tone causes Megatron more grief than he imagined.

“I think so little of how we treat one another.”

“How we treat one another is what caused this,” With a flippant claw Starscream motions to Megatron’s chest, eyes cast just enough away that he didn’t quite have to face him. Of any soldiers, only Starscream had never cowered from meeting his gaze. Whether of pride or challenge, even when Starscream groveled in the face of punishment or admiration, he never looked away. Having this behavior now felt inherently wrong. “How could you do this?”

“I did promise to tell you on Thora…” Offers, wanting to do anything but yell or bicker. Tired of the fighting already both physically and within his overworked spark. Starscream’s snuff of a growl and tensed jaw seemed not to appreciate the attempt to joke.

“When you’re no longer sparked I’m going to hit you for that comment.” He promises while Megatron can only nod to agree that it was fair. “You stole something from me.” It’s a damning statement, one that Megatron finds he was not fully prepared to hear especially in the almost gentle cut of Starscream’s voice. “But we’ll worry about that another time, for now our only priority is regrouping on Cybertron and ensuring there are no further developmental delays.” His brow pinches with a flutter of irritation. “So don’t even try to do anything stupid, understood?”

“You’re giving me orders?”

“As the sire of your heirs I think I’m entitled to a little more control over your body, don’t you think? I’ve already aligned my intentions with Hook who has NO idea how to properly care for this situation.” Starscream gives him no room to argue and it feels… disappointing somehow. Conflicted over how Megatron believed this would go and how he perhaps hoped in the silent reverie of disturbed sleep. Children doing their best to build chaos within while their carrier struggled to reconcile what Starscream might do.

Had he expected Starscream to react in anger? Yes. Had he expected Starscream to prioritize their creations? No.

Had he wanted Starscream to soften at the realization that they were now a part of one another…

“Things are going to be different now.” Starscream invades his thoughts, bringing attention back to the indifference of his demeanor. “The crew knows now. So expect to be under greater scrutiny by my brood.” Huffs, raising a communication to what Megatron assumes is the medical division judging by the way Starscream _threatens_ whoever is on the other end.

“How so?”

“Nearly half your current crew are seekers. You’re carrying the heir to both the faction they serve AND their ancestral home.” Normally here Starscream might look wicked, the build up of a daunting information. Instead he sounds as stern as stating common fact. So far removed from this miracle between them that Megatron questions how much of Starscream’s upset is embarrassment for being kept in the dark or truly over concern for his children?

“And?”

“And that means _Lord_ Megatron, your life is now secondary to their inherit protocols.” Starscream once again motions in the general direction of the spark chamber hidden well beneath heavy armor and evolved machinery. “Those lives you carry are the only thing that matters to them now.”

Megatron fights a natural possessive urge at such an idea. Vos, silver towers of old-code and outdated hierarchy, as destructive as the Senate with a better mask. He still lacked information on how seekers behave with their young and rumors were no good. He’d ordered Hook to learn yet now he has Starscream to be an example...which still left him with no answers.

“And what do these lives matter to you?” He asks Starscream directly and watches the smallest changes bring greater disappointment as his seeker doesn’t yield to any tenderness.

Megatron expected violence and shame, not apathy.

Starscream doesn’t have the chance to answer, helm snapping towards the entryway before proximity alerts even sound. He seems a little relieved to avoid giving an answer, taking only a moment to glance back to Megatron before moving to greet the medical team. Escorting them in stiff groups inside. Soundwave among them, moving to quickly plant themself at Megatron’s side but their helm shifts back and forth. Examining echoing conversations in the atmosphere while Starscream picks an expressive fight with Hook about equipment brought.

“It’s what we have available.” Hook defends. “If we could treat Lord Megatron in the infirmary as I requested…”

“And I denied. Twice I believe.” Starscream is more animated yelling at Hook than the latter half of their conversation. “My orders stand. Get him back in processing order - no frills no weapons no excessive upgrades. We’ll worry about that after the emergence so take those locks off his inner chamber! Now.”

“I believe I have a say.” Megatron comments, voice traveling between the distance and both he and Soundwave are struck by Starscream’s withering look.

“No.” Starscream looks between the three. Hook, Soundwave, then Megatron while the rest step back and await some resolution. “Not anymore you don’t.”

 

Having Soundwave take Starscream’s side will never not be unsettling. Even more having Soundwave obey Starscream is worse as the seeker gave his orders and left without a pause. Citing a busy schedule to get them back on course. _Ordering_ Megatron to refuel and make his stable status confirmed on the bridge. For Moral. None of which was strange, but Megatron realized, with a sinking awkwardness as his body was put back together: he didn’t know if Starscream had even seen their creations yet.  
  
Piece by piece he is returned to a more functioning state as Soundwave flatly reviews the true extent of their problems. From ship damage to casualties, resources and organization they have been suffering in all areas. Except for one. It seemed the seekers were doing just fine despite being the group hit heaviest in casualties those currently onboard seemed high in spirits. Filling vacancies of patrols and operations with little request. It seemed they were eager to return to Cybertron as quickly as possible - a fight breaking out on whether they would dock in Decepticon-controlled Iacon or the wasteland of remaining Vos.  
  
Starscream it seemed had servos full keeping them in line and to his credit managed so with little challenge. Until they could regroup with The Last Resort on Cybertron, it would be unknown the total of seekers lost. Starscream’s last minute order to retreat had hopefully spared a devastating loss, but that didn’t mean war had not claimed a great deal of lives. They had few to blame and according to Soundwave's report Bitstream had offered himself as the responsible party...out of fear after learning that Megatron carried offspring.  
  
“How ridiculous.” Megatron comments, standing unaided while final touches went into his legs. Feeling the weight distribution finally even out - the strain of poor alignment fade with each crackle of tool across his limbs. “We don’t have the time or resource for soldiers to fall on their own swords. Inform Bitstream he’s expected to continue operations uninterrupted by his wallowing.” Rolls an arm testing the ease of shoulder joints and the practiced give of his pauldrons. Gentle whine of tired machinery yet functioning well for his needs.  
  
Starscream already took the fusion cannon as if he were a slovenly child not to be trusted and that remained a greater insult than the rest. Well no. Starscream’s lack of interest in his own children was the insult.  
  
“Give it time.” Soundwave hovered near, gathering any information Megatron required and keeping a close watch on vitals despite those present claiming to be medics. “Even you questioned your resolve towards them at first.” Megatron grunts his response, dissatisfied at the lack of control he had over Starscream in such a time. He doubts ordering the seeker to continue their conversation would have gone well, but in truth Starscream was needed elsewhere.  
  
The few times Megatron was out of commision, and Starscream was not available to take command: hell reigned. Their current circumstances did not serve for locking Starscream in a room and threatening him to feel something.  
  
“You’re good to go, sir.” Hook confirms to both he and Soundwave. “The lightest duty possible if it can be helped. I’d recommend as little strain on your temporary holdings. We’ll have more resources when we dock.”  
  
“Refueling.” Soundwave suggests without suggestion, following Starscream’s previous order as they are already motioning for the room to be cleaned up. “Follow Starscream’s suggestions, he is now the presiding expert on your condition.” Hook stifled a frown as such but Megatron chose not to point out his shortcomings.  
  
“My _condition_.” He mocks, not sure how he’s enjoying been seen now as something fragile. Soundwave was enough but to have Starscream ordering him? The thought that his seekers would view him differently? His children were spoiled already.  
  
The Right spins, The Left sinks and Megatron considers that Soundwave would not allow Starscream to put him in further danger...and by Starscream’s reaction the seeker himself was rather displeased with Megatron’s previous reckless actions. Comforting in small ways to have the thought that Starscream at least didn’t want the sparklings gone. Starscream had laid claim to them in conversation, “ _my sparklings_ ” he’d said. His _responsibility_. It was the least Megatron could ask for. 

 

When Megatron leaves to prove himself alive at the canteen, he almost steps on Skywarp laying in the hall outside his suite. The purple jet scrambling up, flinging himself against the wall and giving Megatron a much wider space than required while looking humiliated at his misstep. The violet jet is in better condition than his wingleader. Patchwork repairs and scuffing along the darker paintjob - but whole enough it seemed he was not in danger.

“Warp be careful!” Thundercracker scolds and both sets of red optics stare up at him with quiet expectation. Well, not him. His chassis and chest plate.

“We’re here to escort you.” Skywarp explains, flashing his wings at TC who looks up just in time for Megatron’s frown. “Starscream’s orders.”

“And where is Starscream?”

“He’s taking care of some issues in the engine room, but he’ll join us on the bridge after you three are taken care of.”

Three. Yet he feels alone.

“This way, sir.”

Starscream had been right. The crew was now aware of his current state as the stares which followed as they passed were on the verge of insubordinate. Thundercracker and Skywarp were a strange comfort to have as focused shadows, escorts indeed. They kept wings fanned wide and much like Starscream it served well preventing any from drawing too close. While there was no shyness to be had, no shame as a carrier, it was certainly an event to be about his troops - missing the sire.

“I’ll get your ration.” Skywarp paused, frowned, stumbled over a thought as Thundercracker and Megatron hesitated to take up space at a bench. “Do you want a straw?”

“Warp just go get the ration.” Thundercracker urged and looked towards Megatron with apology, sitting opposite him with chin raised. Diligently keeping observation of tired soldiers and leaning curiosities. “I’m sure Starscream would be here if he could.” The blue jet offers with uncertain tone and clearly an ill-formed opinion.

“I don’t take kindly to being lied to.”

“Ah, sorry sir.” Megatron’s lack of aggression is taken as acceptance, both now sitting awkwardly at the table with silence their only topic. He shouldn’t feel odd sharing a meal with a ranking officer, he’d spent years in the fuel mucked dirt of Kaon with Thundercracker - he’s held Thundercracker’s internals when a battle went quite poorly in those early days: this should not feel strange. Starscream warned things would be different now then proceeded to leave him unadvised. Perhaps this was his punishment.

“I know it’s not my business but, are there three?” Thundercracker finally speaks after securing the room with his gaze. Few Decepticons seemed willing to approach but Megatron had to note there were more seekers present than when he last looked. All staring at him.

“Two.” He answers, dwelling on The Right. “I believe one is a seeker.”

“Not both?” Thundercracker fails not to sound a little disappointed, damn fliers. If a “ground pounder” was good enough to be sparked by them  a ground pounder would be good enough to be their offspring!

“Tell me Thundercracker, what are your thoughts on all this?”

“Uh…” Never has he seen a face flush so quickly, full frame leaning back and watching Megatron with uncertain fear.

“It’s not a trick question.” Megatron reminds, soured now by such reaction. “Not a single seeker has given their opinion, I’m curious to know.” Ah, that statement reeled the jet back in, expression deepening with confusion.

“Not Starscream?” Megatron’s silence answers for him. “But. They’re his...”

“Trust me, I’m aware.” Just over Thundercracker’s shoulder there’s a mess of wings and colors. Seekers now hovering at the entryway - even pushing other mechs aside to draw closer. It certainly sparks unease in his years with Starscream’s erratic behavior. When a seeker was acting funny that usually gave him reason to be defensive.

“Here you go sir!” Chipper in the face of the strangeness came Skywarp, falling into the seat beside him with fresh confidence. The cube spared from tipping over by Megatron’s quick grasp of the base. The jet only looked proud at his accomplished task, but Megatron was far more concerned with the obvious problem.

“Why is it…” Observes the cloudy mixture, dark in color with odd bits of crumb-like substance struggled to float. Thundercracker did not seem as disturbed by the coloration but the closest seeker to them did.

“Lord Megatron you can’t drink that!” Sunstorm, of course it was the pious fool, all but threw himself over the table. Snatching the cube away as swiftly as if it were a threat. “The indecency of this trine!”

“Say again?” Thundercracker spoke but it was Skywarp’s wings that began to rattle in threat.

“What education do you have in this arena?!” Sunstorm questioned and with a motion and a hiss of sparks drew a sealed canister from subspace in offering. The color was only slightly better, but still cloudy with unknown mixture and it seemed thicker than the last. “Sir forgive my brazen attitude, but you must be resolute in your care. I would be more than happy to--” Before he can even finish the words Acidstorm’s claws were digging into shoulders, yanking the golden preacher back so they might step forward.

Cube of even deeper color presented. Where were they getting them??

“Ignore him. Sir. You shouldn’t chance accepting anything you _don’t know where it came from_.” They give a thin glare back to the sneering Sunstorm. “This combination would serve you best.”

“Who do you think you are?” Skywarp seems to forget himself, and the presence of Megatron, as he is quick to stand on the table. Claws flexed and wings high while Thundercracker takes a similar position. Three more seekers draw close and suddenly the tension of the ration hall feels just as wild as a battlefield.

“We’re only looking out for what’s best.” Sunstorm pushes his way back up before another seeker elbows him low on the torso. Knocking another aside who had begun to engage in a snarling contest with Thundercracker.

“You don’t have a right to it!” Skywarp does something Megatron has not seen before - body moving in a partial transformation just to dislodge the paneling of his backstrut with a pressurized hiss. Wings now hanging the length of the table and almost shielding Megatron’s form.

It was both horrifying, and entirely fascinating. The Left gave a nauseating swirl within as the seekers turn on each other.

“Well no one else has taken the appropriate measures.”

“Are you talking about Starscream with that low-caste mouth of yours?!”

“Just like him to spark and run!” Thundercracker throws a fist and sends Novastorm falling back into the displeased crowd. There’s a clatter as Skywarp manages to catch another seeker’s arm before they could do the same in retribution, a flicker of light and the other is crying in pain, limb now bent and twisted improperly behind their back as Skywarp tries to force them down.

“That’s enough!” Megatron orders but the vibration of agitated wings and snapping cries are too loud. “I said…”

“What is going on in here?!” The chaos falls into slouching forms and gaping expressions as Starscream appears. Stepping with easy clicks and wings in a common position, body still half patched with stock parts and steel. His presence sends seekers falling back, optics wide or lowered in fear or disdain as he steps around the table. “This is how you act around our leader? A carrier?!”

If Starscream’s face were not so stricken with fury Megatron might have laughed for the hypocritical claims.

“We were offering our assistance.” Sunstorm, the only one willing to challenge Starscream in the moment, has only seconds before one of the energon canisters is flung into his face. Covering him in the viscous fluid, dark and grimy with unknown additive. He falls back, scrubbing at his face with a distorted language: but helm bowed and retreating nonetheless.

“The only assistance we require is for you prying lot to get back to your work and get us to Cybertron.” By the time Starscream is at his side Megatron can feel the waves of heat and upset radiating from his form. If he held a servo out he’s sure he could touch it - mold that anger like a tangible piece of Starscream’s best and worst qualities.

Blue scuffed claws curl beneath the edge of his chin, swift and guiding as Megatron finds his head lifted back. Taking in Starscream’s delicate features currently scarred from war. He’s drawn upwards and Starscream doesn’t have to move far to press their mouths together, gentle and warm. A low sigh of heat from Starscream rushing across his stunned form as the seeker makes a show out of drawing his glossa across his mouth. A servo falls to rest over Megatron’s chest and any signs of the spark chamber’s careless want to open goes still. Starscream traces the flat seam as gently as he eases his lips across Megatron’s, soothing and slow. Confident in his actions before the obscene gesture of flicking his tongue vertical across Megatron’s slack lips to the tip of his nose.

“He’s being taken care of.” Starscream’s voice twists something in Megatron’s core as the canteen was silent from such display. Onlookers now no longer awkward at his presence but a crowd of soldiers, seeker and groundmode alike, horrified or intrigued. Starscream rests claws on Megatron’s pauldron, addressing his kind with a low and unmoving tone. “Now. Get. Back. To. Work.”

Megatron believes the seekers disperse with greater speed than any speedster.

“Here, we’re needed on the bridge.” Starscream seems to know which cube was Skywarp’s, pulling it in to Megatron’s reach. “Don’t ingest anything we don’t give you - understood?” Megatron’s not given a chance to question it, watching the Command Trine erupt in a wordless conversation. Anger and apology all shared in the shift and falter of wings. It’s rarely agreeable for him to remain passive, even obeying Starscream’s suggestions, but Megatron finds it would be a shame to speak and disrupt the moment. What with the gentle weight of Starscream’s claws rhythmically trailing down the back of his neck, the warm presence of the other which seems to put the sparklings at ease.

He finishes the ration with dignity, standing tall as Starscream takes his place at his side - sending his trine off ahead to make sure rambunctious fliers weren't getting in trouble elsewhere. It gives Megatron a moment to address him, browridge tilted in curiosity as the sparklings seem to have fallen into rest within.

“Feel like explaining what that was about?” The halls empty at their presence, watching Needlenose even dive into an open corridor to avoid being trapped with them.

“Explain what?”

“Starscream.” While the kiss certainly had Megatron distracted from troubling thoughts, it still didn’t solve anything. The lengths Starscream would go to seem threatening…

“You’ve opened a can of worms is all. Triggered protocol and without a nest of bitlets to focus on they just need reminding they can’t have mine.” Finally relents, glare hyper focused on the hall before them. “It’s only going to get worse once they emerge. Which we’ll be lucky if the seeker-spark is even strong enough to grow wings with how you’ve been neglecting them!”

“What?” Grunts, thinking on The Right. “It’s the most active, if nothing else the other is cause of concern.” The Left strangely recognizes itself in conversation, or it feels that way when they give a pulse of energy no brighter than a friction spark. It would make Megatron grin in connection to his offspring but Starscream is looking up at him like he’s insane. “What do you mean neglecting?”

“I saw the reports.” Starscream explains. “The scans clearly show a yet unidentified build and a seeker spark that is having problems with development.”

“You’re referring to Right?”

Starscream’s jaw drops.

“Did--did you name my children after relative directions!?” He shrieks painfully. “I take it back I’m going to hit you.”

“Stop that.” Just to be safe Megatron keeps Starscream’s lethal claws in focus. “I’ve not named them yet. But the sparkling located on the right hemisphere of my core, the most active, is most likely a seeker.”

They come to a standstill in the corridor as Starscream looks ready to throttle him. Judging by his face Megatron was not going to live long enough to meet his children.

“You absolute buffoon! The sparkling on the LEFT is the seeker!” He yells, claws curling over Megatron’s arm to yank him in, jab at the left side of his chest plate. “And you’ve been allowing them to hurt by denying me my right!”

Megatron feels he’s staring for the longest time before words can manage to form on his glossa which echoes in the friction of Starscream’s mouth.

“No.” He denies, trying to puzzle out the new information. “Left is simply sluggish and--”

“And starved for the appropriate coding!”

“I didn’t--”

“You didn’t let me do my job as the sire!” Starscream flares and Megatron can’t react to the intimidation tactic, head far too full with realization. “The left sparkling, the one you call weak and small. It’s that way because you’ve denied it direct access to my coding. The one on the right is feeding freely off yours, wanting for nothing!” Soundwave mentioned something similar, but assured him it would be fine without. “Seekers are complicated builds but strict ones - we have little variation for a reason you idiot!”

“So your anger…”

“I’m angry for plenty of reasons!” He storms about the hall, flashing wings and claws with reckless abandon. “But mostly that you put your own paranoia ahead of their safety! How was I supposed to react when I found out? As far as I can guess you were planning to use them against me. Or worse you weren’t planning to tell me at all!”

“I was.” He wasn’t. Not entirely sure. He wanted to.

Wounded egos aside it’s Megatron who feels his frame go weak, troubled greatly by the thought that he’s somehow hurt his children. Scrapping at the ledge of his chest plate he finds himself conflicted and unfocused - struggling to make sense of this new deafening sensation. There are dusty protocols and laws demanding and hungry pouring across his processor and a terrible vacuum where the answer wasn’t.

He could fight a war, stand triumphant across the endless battlefields and reshape the universe in the image of his choosing, but he couldn’t even do right by his own creations?

“Stop that.” Starscream rests his hand over the Decepticon symbol bright and stark across his chest. The swelling of code and information calms, Megatron's mind put at a small ease. “Come with me.”

They don’t go far, a storage room that brings back memories. Walls lined with fractured artillery and crates of unmarked supplies. Starscream for his size does fine pushing him inside despite protests. Freely threatening him in the airy language of Vos which doesn’t translate as quickly as Megatron would like. Moments before he’s hitting a large crate with his hip. Turning to demand Starscream explain himself.

“Just trust me.” Starscream asks and looks all the same color in the poorly lit room, dark face highlighted in the red glow of his gaze. “For once in our lives pretend you trust me.”

A question of his lifetime: did he trust Starscream or did he convince himself so as not to lose him?

Starscream presses both servos like a fan across the lower portion of his chest in a way which felt familiar. Easing him back until Megatron took the hint. Pulling himself back to sit on the crate edge and only instinctively grabbing for Starscream’s waist as the seeker confidently followed. Legs parted over the girth of Megatron’s thigh without question.

“I need you to open up.” His voice drops, scarcely higher than a whisper as Megatron cradles his hips. Trying to control the urge to bring him in closer, crush them together inseparable. Even the intimate and unsettling suggestion is muted by the feel of Starscream’s pulse under hand as the weight of his servo falls to the smallest point of the pale waist. “Megatron.”

“Have you done this before?” Asks though he truly has no idea what they’re doing past the familiar way he can bring Starscream to bow under touch, stroking upwards beneath the shadow of wings. Tracing delicate seams and trailing against the complicated weave of his back.

“Once.” Megatron growls without intending to, his jealousy bared. “Don’t start that.” Claws trace the firm line of his jaw, leading him into another kiss likely just to silence his complaints. Soft mouth stroking across his lip, glossa meeting in a startling brush of sensation. Starscream’s hands grasp to the rear edge of Megatron’s helm, smoothing claws just beneath and gripping tightly as they kiss. Giving the smallest noise as Megatron’s hands pet across the length of his torso and drawing a warm rumble of engines between them.

Their frames mimic one another, the shifting gears and heated touch as claws find new places to grasp - the drama of their situation forgotten in favor for the wicked grin as Starscream clips Megatron’s chin with his teeth. A warning growl silenced swiftly as he mouths the underside of Starscream’s jaw and the seeker purrs in his lap without the usual rut. Intimate panels remain sealed against a harsh desire as their attention draws elsewhere. Swelling of energy beneath the outer armor, his body feeling impossibly hot yet unbothered so long as Starscream was near.

It distracts from the moment Starscream’s chest plate opens. The canopy shifting to hide within some compartment, the innerworkings of his beautiful second on momentary display until light catches his attention. A pale hue, lustrous and complex casts brightly from beneath the final chamber seal. Only glass separating them for a klik and Megatron feels this is far too gentle for how he’s hurt the other.

“Primus…” Starscream’s hands fall to cradle Megatron’s jaw, his focus now between them as Megatron’s sparkchamber had already opened without notice. Desperate to greet the fellow light, that comforting warmth. He cannot see within but knows their sparklings are there - lingering at the edges of his core on full display.

Megatron feels he should say something, but what? The moment too fragile for even his weathered poetry to ruin. Besides there were no words worth adding to the look on Starscream’s face meeting his creations for the first time. He raises a servo to trace the overlay of seams which fall beneath Starscream’s optic in the place of bulky words, looking kindly on the other in the softening moment.

Starscream, without warning, yanks him forward until the open cavity of Megatron’s chest nearly swallows his frame whole. No second to question the action as spark fields meet and meld instantly into one another. Megatron’s frame jerking with the sensation like a slow ease into a boiling oil bath - a gasping heat overwhelms each sensor. Filling him, flooding every circuit and running a carnal drive throughout.

Has to brace himself on the shape of Starscream, optics dazed as a pressure builds. An ebbing swell from his core trickling down to the tips of his fingers grasping around the seeker’s form. Face falls to bury against an arched throat, the hum of Starscream’s body locked in the same state - a resonating sound between them as Starscream whines, claws digging across Megatron’s shoulders. Overcome with feeling as _something_ courses through the labyrinth of his system like a building overload. Difficult to know where he ends and Starscream begins as pieces shift and clasp around one another. Dripping heat down the back of his mind.  _Feeling_ the moment like a hefty swallow as Starscream's spark fluctuates against his own and he surely dents the other's body in the startled response.

Megatron doesn’t know if he’s ever felt sated before in his life before this moment.

He finds Starscream’s collar and bites, needing to root himself in something under his control. Eliciting a low cry and the smaller frame shudders under hand. The brilliance of light between them beginning to flicker and fade and Megatron chases it with dragging Starscream close and dear. Cradling the seeker in lap as their bodies feel raw and quiver at the lightest touch. Starscream kissing over his brow before his strength gives, both toppling back in a brittle rut. Still grasping one another while chambers close - Starscream giving a soft sound when he can no longer see his creations.

“Here.” Megatron hikes his legs, giving Starscream support to sit back now balanced on his abdomen, careful to separate as that feeling lessens with each passing klik but doesn’t quite leave. Like something takes it's place as the burn passes through arched hips and tensed backs. Both worn to a shaking need as Megatron isn’t sure who moved first until he is very aware of the easing sheath of Starscream’s body. Nerves shot but instincts demanding. His reach squeezing the bent pale knees as the seeker rocks with the rise and tremor of shared indulgence. Urging Starscream on with low noises and a language he didn't speak moments ago - rising enough to grasp a hip and guide the light frame down harder onto himself. Fervent and adoring as the seeker's body molds perfectly in hand.  
  
Half focused sights fill with the elegant shape of his seeker spilling over his tender frame with a sharp sound. Claws dragging in almost gentle strokes while Starscream burrows his nose against the primary ledge of Megatron’s chest. His spark feels like it just swallowed a star. Brief but something settles inside him, satisfaction secondary as Starscream rests across the length of his body. Gentle vibration purring across their clutching forms, feeling different somehow unexplained. He wants to kiss Starscream once more but their bodies are useless for more than locked together in clumsy embrace.

“And that?” Megatron asks after some time, petting the edge of Starscream’s shoulder where they are tangled. Half falling off the crate, Megatron’s strength and stubbornness alone refusing to let them truly slip. 

“Direct code feed.” Starscream’s voice is rough but small as claws trace quiet shapes across his armor. “Now shh.”

“Shh?” Tilting his helm upwards he can see now where Starscream’s attention truly lies. Round optics warm with delight as he listens to the sparklings beneath. Mouth flickering to smile whenever Megatron can feel The Right shift or The Left act daring. Seemingly renewed energy as the smaller spark begins a bobbing sway. The motion of Starscream’s hand petting just above the rambunctious actions and he has never seen Starscream so enthralled before. “Aren’t we needed on the bridge?” He says with no singular thought of moving and denying Starscream the moment - or himself the view.

“The rest of the universe can wait.” Starscream addresses the chamber beneath instead of him. Purring, bewitched by things he can no longer see. “I’m bonding.”

If Megatron felt free to chuckle he might have, fluttering as residual sensations pour from sensor to sensor like a budding flame. Streaking across endless circuits and bringing his body to rise and fall in ventilated breaths. Starscream in much the same shape, flushed but affectionate to little bits of light that pull on their tethers trying to reach him in return. Pride and possession vie for dominance across Megatron's thoughts but both are set aside for a simple fondness of the sight before him as their worlds seem to finally align.

Megatron brings a servo up with the intention of cradling Starscream’s helm, to hold him now that limbs are lax and over gluttonous with the shared charged. But his confidence falters at the last moment while Starscream continues his gentle doting. He retracts his hand, returning it to his side and supports Starscream’s weight for so long as he requires.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys so I'm looking for a beta-reader(s) for some LITE review. Because I have the confidence of a baby bunny but I also see my spelling mistakes and go "well dammit" weeks after the fact.
> 
> Mostly just spelling and double checking tense etc. HMU on twitter @ seekingjets or tumblr by the same name if you're interested. Preferably if you've beta-read before. Thanks. <3


	6. Care

\---

 

“I should have known.” Starscream’s claws create a terrible sound as they draw rhythmic and anxious across the crate’s lid. Normally this would instigate annoyance on Megatron’s part, but he was far too busy in the moment. Still laid back across the uncomfortable container, processor in overdrive at the new information now swirling across his computers. Algorithms for flight speed against precarious conditions, standard maintenance for wings he did not have. A collective of knowledge from Starscream’s ancient code of seekers pounding his circuits demanding _more more more_. Hungry and skittish like the seeker himself. 

“I did not intend for you to know just yet.” Rasps through his answer while struck with a sudden nauseous desire for flight. The ache for an endless reach and the blissful promise of open space. Megatron ponders if this is the root of seekers’ famous claustrophobia? This need to spread wings across untethered fields of stars constantly screaming across their very mental structure. 

Soundwave sends another communicae, the third in so little time. Starscream and Megatron dismiss the attempt, unwilling to face the world outside the cramped room just yet. 

“Regardless, I should have known.” Starscream grunts, producing the unattractive sound with a flicker of wings that does something to Megatron’s proximity field. Like a ripple of sensation, yet incomplete. His current frame clearly lacking the ability to receive the full meaning. He’d never guessed there was more to their jerky movements than mere dramatic flare. More communication than expression. “Something felt different...I used to tend to nests, the signs were all there.” 

“You did?” That struck Megatron as bizarre and his reaction must have not pleased Starscream as the seeker pulled back his mouth to sneer. 

“There’s no shame in it!” He defended, clearly sensitive over the matter. “It was practically mandatory.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed you the caretaker type.” Megatron remarks, cautious but more curious. “At least in your youth.” Starscream’s youth - a mystery. His boasts of high-caste coding and regal status amongst his former home-city never challenged by his peers. He acted like a prince and ordered his kind with similar expectation. A tyrant when any might dare threaten his position. Starscream, faults aside, had clearly been groomed for leadership yet it seemed obvious he missed the lesson on managing one’s pride as it was the sore source of all their troubles when coupled with fragile ego. 

“Is that why you assumed I’d reject our creations?” Hurt slips through the bitterness and Megatron is left to watch Starscream’s tense back. Their time of intimacy shifting into an awkwardness not encountered before. Their merge had been, unique. Powerful and all-consuming yet left Megatron grasping for understanding of what it meant. His sparklings felt satiated, emitting a low-level vibration like a seeker’s purr that seemed loud enough for Starscream to hear. 

“I assumed incorrectly.” Starscream’s snorts an acknowledgement and chooses not to give room at the crate’s edge when Megatron sits up. Having to hold himself in crooked position to accommodate the broad forms, both shifting once more to hang up on Soundwave’s invasive call at the back of their focus. “I believe we’re long overdue for negotiations.” 

“Negoti---” He worries Starscream will burn out his optical lenses with overuse, yet he still finds himself looking on the other’s twisted glare with fondness. Watching Starscream fight against himself to remain calm is one of Megatron’s favorite pastimes. “The nerve to say that to the sire… There are no _negotiations_. You’re carrying my successors so I’ll be taking part in every developmental stage and maintain status as a caretaker regardless of what you want. They’ll be inheriting the Decepticon throne from me afterall.” 

“From you?” Megatron questions with a grumble.

“You’ll be long-dead by then. I’m only thinking logically. I’m not going to allow you to push me out of their lives. They’re just as much mine as yours.” Starscream carries on with his usually arrogance. Chin raised against all potential complaints while he gives Megatron exactly the answer he wanted. 

“If you insist.” He tries not to seem too pleased in case Starscream has the petty need to change his mind just to wound him - which only brings Megatron questioning once more why it had to be _Starscream_. Not just to be the sire of his heirs, but to be the cesspool of which it seems Megatron has decided to pour his affections. He was hardly surprised.

“The incident at the mess hall, I will not tolerate further occurrences where my orders are not enough to quell a riot.” He adds. “I’m not even sure what that chaos was about.” 

“Providing is an inherent need of our protocols. Whether it’s their sparklings or not, we’re hard-wired to protect them. But I’ll not have anyone usurping my responsibilities.” 

“I’ll leave your force to you then.” Megatron agrees while knowing full well the glaring likelihood that he will indeed have to intervene on Starscream’s behalf. A charmer, certainly. A silver tongue snake, no doubt. But where Starscream went turmoil followed and Megatron would expect a fight within the day. “And what of us?” 

“What of us?” Starscream’s posture goes rigid, turning the question around like twirling a blade back on the wielder. He looks displeased and startled in equal measure and that left Megatron’s instincts to retreat, seeing no ground to be conquered with such a question. Their bodies still crackled with the merge, Starscream’s code swelling across his core and the shape of his mouth was now punctured along the seeker’s throat...but that did not seem to mean much. 

“I expect we can continue working alongside one another in efficient order.” He changes his intentions and the aerial code flags a tremor in pale wings. Something he would not have recognized before and cannot translate now. 

“Please, you’re carrying my sparklings, try not to mimic Shockwave.” Starscream curls a lip and slouches forward, rubbing raw points across his torso and frowning at the signs of rough handling. They blend well enough with the shape of his body, still mismatched and unpolished. But Megatron knows the dent of his thumb against Starscream’s hip and took pride in leaving his marks. “Soundwave keeps calling.” 

“We should make our way to the bridge.” 

“Not at the same time!” Starscream almost shoves him then thinks better of it. “What if someone sees us?” 

Megatron stares at him, almost impressed at his dedication to absurdity. 

“I think their imaginations are full with the knowledge that I’m the one sparked. Starscream.” Making the seeker flush outside of obscene actions is such a fulfilling accomplishment. Were he not still wary of the limit of Starscream’s patience with him he might have acknowledged the lovely way his seeker seemed to just now remember he was indeed the one responsible for this mess.

Megatron stands first, resting a servo beneath Starscream’s left wing in a daring move. The other either doesn’t notice or chooses not to acknowledge it. Aided to stand as optics flutter back to Megatron’s chest at eye level with hesitation. “You can see them at any time.” Megatron assures, predicting the cause of the seeker’s sudden worry. Of course Starscream waved him off - wanting to avoid being seen as anything but in control of his doubts. 

“Like you have a choice!” He declares, almost puncturing the door controls with the excessive action. Looking displeased then relieved he didn’t knock Megatron with his elbow joint in the wide motion. “Don’t get arrogant, I’m not about to suddenaAAH!” 

Starscream almost runs into Soundwave waiting on the other side. Wings fanning high as his steps falter, stumbling backwards into Megatron’s form. Megatron quick to curl servos beneath raised arms while he’s smacked in the face with a wing. He’s strong enough to hold himself and Starscream upright, but even his sparkpulse is speeding from the unexpected company and surprise.

Soundwave addresses them with a stern look, faceless with the accessories, but intimidating nonetheless. Leaving both Megatron and Starscream shrinking back like naughty fledglings. 

“You are late to the bridge. Sir.” 

“We had some business to take care of.” Megatron takes command over the moment while still holding Starscream from falling. 

“Understood.” Soundwave tilts their helm to the side, observing what no others could see. “Request? In the future, please refrain from undertaking amorous fusions in public spaces. Lord Megatron, your room is a far more secure and hygienic location.” 

Megatron is relieved that he still held Starscream, or else the seeker would have launched himself at the officer. Mortified at having such personal matters broadcasted so casually. 

“You stay out of our business! I’m still furious at this clandestine frack of a conspiracy!” He pulls out of Megatron’s grasp, looking all the more insulted, and ducks past Soundwave. Hissing and spewing the foulests language Megatron thinks he’s ever heard now echoing through the halls in his retreat. 

“That one, my spark declared.” Megatron sighs, yet still cannot ignore the warmth post-merge still trickling both gentle and wild against his core. “That’s the one I choose? I must be mad.” His amused grin is not reflected in Soundwave’s flat expression emulating an unnatural smugness.. “How did you know what transpired here?” 

“Soundwave superior.” They answer, stepping aside to allow room for Megatron to pass. Humble, really, he thinks but accepts his officer’s response. “Additionally: you’re currently using Vosian idiolect, of which you do not speak. As you have yet to notice, I made a deduction. Starscream’s reaction only giving confirmation to assumption.” 

“I...Am I?” Now aware he hears it. The shift of words, the strange sounds small but clearly foreign for him. He runs a check and finds a startling amount of new language packs in his system. Dialects from across Cybertron, various translations hacked from their travels to foreign worlds. Megatron was both amazed and horrified and did NOT want to know what _fraternity speech_ meant. It seemed Starscream had shared a great deal more than simply the necessary information for their seeker child to begin building their form. A fraction of Starscream’s life of collected knowledge, the knowledge of his ancestors, now embedded in Megatron’s being. 

It felt strangely cherished. 

“Sir?” Soundwave reminds him to remain in the moment, sparklings slumbering peacefully within as they soak up the new code like a meal. Megatron swapping out language for their more commonly used vernacular and gave the other a look over.

“You don’t have to look so pleased with yourself, Starscream is only going to be all the more intolerable after this.” 

“Potentially.” Soundwave shakes their helm and ever the perfect soldier waits for Megatron to begin their journey to the command center. “But Starscream a consistent level of intolerable at any given moment. It’s only a positive sign that not much has changed now that he is aware of his new position.” 

“Not much changed?” Megatron feels gloom at the edges of his spark. “I suppose you’re right.” 

\---

Megatron never expected to be a carrier. In fact, he had given up the idle thought of one day being a parent by any means after standing in the fuel drenched grounds of his first battlefield. The idea of bringing new life into existence, and then proceeding to care for it, had been a youthful thought. One based out of expectation. Whether by donating his model code to generation chambers or being a sire himself, Megatron’s only desperate thought in his youth was that his children would not be chained to the same lowly fate as himself. 

That being the case, Megatron never put thought into how his soldiers might react to his being sparked. 

“You can pick your jaw up off the ground at any time Blitzwing.” He growls in warning as the triple-changer jerks upright after a solid minute of just _staring_ between Megatron and Starscream on the throne dais. As if trying to figure out how exactly things worked out. And truly, was there no sense of privacy amongst his troops!?

At his right Starscream seems just as irritated. Glaring across the pit of shifting red and yellow optics, each trying not to meet the scowling seeker. Only Thundercracker and Skywarp, present below, seemed spared from Starscream’s annoyance. Both leaning back to “check on” Megatron like it was their duty. And perhaps it was. Megatron thought to shift through the new coding, trying to locate anything about trines and procreation. Information directly from the source couldn’t be altered to suit Starscream’s need for secrecy in most matters. Alas it seemed that had not been part of the transfer, leaving Megatron questioning the likelihood he would get a direct answer from the sire. Questioning how crude it might be to circumvent Starscream entirely. 

“Generators will be fully functional by tomorrow evening at latest.” Long Haul reports on a display screen. in the background moving bodies of avid workers try to repair scorched components and replace ruined scraps. Had they been struck by the gunners on the surface of Thora there would have been no chance to escape. Megatron couldn’t help but wonder how many soldiers were lost on The Tragedy, now aptly named… 

“I want it operational by designated morning.” Starscream gives the command and there’s a startled motion across the soldiers below. A tension rising that not even the (presumed awkwardness) of his state could diffuse. It is with a dreary realization that Megatron sees the cause. This moment felt just as before their decision to rush and move to attack Thora 544, only this time their forces were bruises and mourning.

“Long haul.” Megatron addresses the display bringing attention back to himself. “Do what is necessary, take no shortcuts. If it is not ready until tomorrow evening then so be it. We will wait.” 

“Sir?” Starscream turns and like a puppet on strings do the Decepticons watching shift to better take in the scene. “We really don’t have the time to waste.” 

“Caution over carelessness, Starscream. We’re not in any immediate danger.” 

“That’s not for you to decide.” Starscream’s voice pulls thin, strained against the lack of volume as he (for once) tries to keep his complaint quiet and avoid a scene. A miracle that. They’re staring at one another from across a divide, pressure worn on either side for very different reasons. Their children are sleeping and Megatron is not interested in rousing them with a fight - especially not after such intimacy was shared and seemingly forgotten by his Second. 

To know the priorities of a seeker would be as strenuous as facing infinity, Megatron thinks. 

“If you believe you can get us moving faster _without_ additional trouble to our engines, you’re welcome to join the effort.” He announces, watching Starscream’s expression waver between upset and focus. “But I will only give the order for a jump under confirmation from our engineers.”

“But.” 

“I have months before the emergence.” That catches the attention of spying soldiers, the first true acknowledgement of Megatron’s “condition” - seems to be the final confirmation in the rumor mill and his soldiers seem a strange variety of reactions. While of course Starscream appears scandalized. Always hoarding information as obsessively as any bird, privacy his preference in all matters. “We are in no panic to return to Cybertron. Let’s do things right this time.” 

“Fine.” Starscream ruffles wings and his wingmates reciprocate the action, turning focus back to their stations while Megatron feels he’s done something wrong. 

Though with Starscream, he very much doubts there is any one “right” way - and the news of his eventual parentage did not seem to invoke any further emotion in the other. Possession, of course. Upset at being kept out of the “loop”, unsurprising. But the brief moment where Starscream cooed and coddled across the expanse of Megatron’s chest seemed so distant from the stiff, unsettled creature before him. Unpredictable as ever. 

Starscream spends an hour pouting on the bridge before storming off to join patrols. Claiming he had no interest in being caught unaware again and not asking for permission to increase security around their waiting ship. Skywarp remained, taking up Starscream’s station and once more Megatron watches their ever-moving wings and realizes there is a greater language webbed between small action - one he still cannot translate. It’s both frustrating and a curiosity if he will learn this language of motion should they merge again?

If they merge again. Megatron was uncertain if the one occurrence was enough and sitting before his soldiers was not a time to ask what was normal. Starscream demanded involvement in every aspect of development but that did not mean he wished for anything more to do with Megatron himself. Asking Starscream directly wouldn’t work - at least from Megatron’s experience. His seeker had a way of twisting even the simplest statements into declarations of war and the last thing he wanted was for a new trouble to brew between them. 

“Do you need anything, sir?” Skywarp asks no less than fifteen times across the duration of Megatron’s on the bridge. Annoying but at least someone seemed to show concern. He thinks: bitterly and wondering if this was a mere reaction to the carrying state or if he was truly longing for Starscream to dote. Even just a moment? A spared second beyond agreeing that hitting the carrier of his offspring wasn’t a good idea. Supposes Starscream did show care when chasing off the gathering of pestering seekers. Approached the subject of their merge for the health of their sparklings. But was that the limit of his intentions?

Not that Megatron needed to be taken care of - it just struck him as something a sire should do.

Ugh. What a relief it was not Starscream carrying. That emotional wreck wouldn’t have taken any pause in demanding attention. 

“Do you need--” 

“Peace.” Megatron interrupts after the sixteenth time, rising from his throne and fixing Soundwave with a look. “Once Starscream returns from his patrol have him take the bridge.” He takes one step down the platform and realizes that Skywarp is already following. “What are you doing?” 

“Escorting you, sir.” Skywarp smiles brilliant and without concern to the bother he is being. “Starscream asked me to accompany you.” 

_When?_ Megatron thinks back to flaring wings before the other left without a pause, disturbed now that there was so much happening before him these many, many years. How much did he miss right before his nose?

“Skywarp,” Megatron stops dead along the path, watching the eager sway of the purple jet watching him in return with a strange excitement. Now would be a perfect opportunity to get information out of him - anyone but Starscream. He’d take the screeching seeker’s anger later but wouldn’t putting Starscream off be worth finally knowing what was going on in his own damn body??

“Yes Sir?” 

“Take command of the bridge.” He orders, effectively trapping his soldier there until the return of the wingleader. His worry showing in the grimace across Skywarp’s face. Sad to throw Skywarp under the astro-bus but Megatron didn’t want a babysitter. Which goes without saying as he turns a stern glance towards Soundwave who is watching. Clarifying that he will not be followed. 

 

Under Hook’s orders Megatron was given the suggestion he shouldn’t strain himself. The temporary fittings of his outer frame and armor were just that: temporary. Not meant for front lines or excessive motion. So it only makes sense that Megatron ignore these warnings. Finding himself wandering the melancolic halls of the Nemesis, taking stock in which soldiers ducked quickly out of his way - and which starred. Slack expressions trying to understand the turn of events that even Megatron himself was struggling to come to terms with. 

The training center was best, letting those present shuffle out under a silent command. Activating spare drone, fearsome and sparkless soldiers springing to life one by one. Hefty limbs bearing bladed grips and gunfire no more dangerous than mere flashing lights. Battle took his mind off things. Exercising his physical form what he did best, not sitting about moping over whether Starscream was _happy_ or not. Things were easier when Starscream didn’t know. He could observe and question his approach rather than sit like a lectured child on what he did wrong. Made to feel small in the face of his Second’s conflicting emotions. 

Give him a weapon, given him an enemy - spare him Starscream’s hurt feelings.

He turns hard, slamming his elbow into the helm of a drone, feeling it crumble under the force before addressing the other combatants. Catching a sweeping blade with his servo, yanking the form forward and with a singular push - thrusting it off the predesignated track. The large form, nearly Megatron’s rival, rolling into another enemy - both falling to ruin as Megatron dodges gunfire flashes and digs his heel down. Lunging at a droid’s waist to catch it off-guard, swinging his weight around until they both crashed to the training room floor in a scuffle. Shockwave’s superior drone design actually giving Megatron trouble as he fought against a pinching grasp less dangerous than Starscream’s stubborn disappointment. 

He throws an arm out, smashing the thing’s cranial component with the force of his strike and with a barked command the soldiers fall into stillness. Empty shells now slouched across the scrap-scattered floor from his brief scuffle. Sparkless optics gray with emptiness and it disturbs Megatron more than it should.

“I’m sorry.” He speaks the words so rarely uttered, using a broken drone as a headrest while his servo alys heavily across his chest. “I didn’t realize you were suffering.” If he had told Starscream sooner his sparklings wouldn’t have been put in any danger - but he had no way of knowing that! And yet, Megatron feels foolish all the same for questioning Starscream’s reaction. He did not know if the seeker held any care for him, but offspring were not so violently thrown away. Even if Starscream wouldn’t care for their creator it didn’t mean he would not love his children.

The Left gives a chirp and Megatron has to tilt his head low to stare. Having sworn he _heard_ the noise rather than merely felt it. 

“Your sire is an obdurate creature. Spoiled, careless and mad at the best of times. He’s short-sighted when he thinks he’s looking towards the future but often times cannot see past his own emotions...but he can be tender when it suits him.” 

The Right sways and they feel lower than before - their tether to Megatron’s spark just about taking all it can as the speck of life pulls against their bond. Ready to go, to exist. Brash behavior for one no larger than Megatron’s optic and he’s softening to think that one day it will be a fledgling pulling at his wrist - demanding and hasty in their actions. He’s uncertain if that is a trait from Starscream or himself. 

“I’ll tell you a story before we go back - settle you for the remainder of the day. Tomorrow you’ll see Cybertron, you need to be well-rested to greet the home of your ancestors.” Megatron shifts against the hard body of the dead drone used like a cushion beneath his helm, imagination incapable of creating even the slightest guess of what his children will look like. Whether they will share his broad shape or Starscream’s elegant angles. Will they curl their faces when they laugh or how bright will their optics burn introduced to new worlds beneath a Decepticon mark? A universe he will certainly conquer for them.

“On Cybertron, when war was merely the budding tides of revolution. My own part a mere gladiator beneath a city of rust and crime. Desperate hopes scattered beneath the veneer of cheering crowds - all craving for distraction that only bloodshed could supply. One uneventful rally and a glimpse of pale wings caught my optic. Your sire has a way of never hiding within a crowd unless it suits him you know? But oh, once spotted, he is impossible to ignore…” 

\---

He rises from slumber with fresh updates on gestation - a gentle reminder of fuel consumption and new code meant for a very different frame is bossing his computers about. Demanding processes currently not in his possession. He feels weak with exhaustion, body swollen and heavy where he lay in the darkened room still a mess from his uninteresting spar. 

Limbs do not respond at first and he worries he went too long without energon. A swift check and his sparklings seem fine. Stable. But something is certainly different as recharge took him abruptly and left him restless. Sluggish in the pitiful attempts to rise. Hours having passed from when he began retelling his first years with Starscream and slipped into sleep without warning.

“Yes, sleeping on floors is absolutely what someone in your position should be doing.” Why it is not a surprise to hear Starscream’s voice, he cannot tell. A momentary pause to wonder if he knew the seeker was there all along? As if he didn’t have to wait for his proximity read to find the other, sitting nearby in the dark. Red optics dimmed so as not to be so glaring, searching over Megatron with curiosity.

“Your children are exhausting and greedy.” 

“Just like their creator.” Starscream grins and he doesn’t look upset in the dark. Only watching with unexpected stillness. “I’ve been monitoring your state, they’ve ingested over 40% of your energy stores just from this morning.” 

“Is that not normal?” 

“It’s...promising.” He’s not being snapped at to move or get off the floor so Megatron accepts the chance to openly watch Starscream. His angular face shifting in gentle ways against emotions felt, puzzling what to say next. A rare sight, Starscream thinking. “Physically speaking, you’re rather well-suited for sparkling creation.” Megatron grunts at this.

“You’re only getting two.” 

“It’s standard for seekers to have at least three.” 

“Then you can carry the next one.” 

Awkward silence, their casual teasing guiding into unmapped lands where either could react with displeasure. Starscream sees it too judging by the low sweep of wings, pulling himself forward to stand and wait patiently at Megatron’s side.

“I don’t have the frame for it.” Offers a servo to aid Megatron’s odd shuffle to rise. Limbs aching from recent repairs and a bulging sensation across his torso. Noticed by Starscream who quirks a smile and doesn’t release Megatron’s hand. “You know, I don’t hate you like this.”

“Slow or fat?” He groans, waiting for an insult…

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Not even Primus knows what you mean at any time, Starscream.” He stands above Starscream, the other reaching no higher than the sigil across his chest where below their children are beginning to stir. 

“Well someone’s in a mood.” Starscream huffs, tugging Megatron’s wrist in a similar fashion to earlier in the day. “Hightower just installed the dispensary in your quarters. Lets go.” Megatron opens his mouth to complain, remind Starscream he’s hardly invalid. “We should get a merge out of the way..” And Megatron’s mouth snaps shut to the roll of Starscream’s gaze. “Don’t read too much into it - this is how to ensure they’re healthy.” 

“Of course.” Sour mood back as he walks at Starscream’s right, the seeker moving in smaller strides to match Megatron’s slower pace. Abnormal for Megatron to be the one needing to keep up when usually his long gait was the cause of Starscream’s whining - accusing him of running when his smaller frame couldn’t keep up. 

They were going to have fledglings with even smaller legs. Perhaps he could just carry them everywhere? 

The path to his suite is undisturbed, sparing any further shame from Starscream to be seen with him as earlier. So many questions bothering him now that they are alone once more. Unsettled thoughts leading to doubt and hesitation. Such does not suit the Decepticon Commander, their Leader: but he gives pause just the same. Starscream’s behavior as complex as ever, hissing one moment, calm the next, crawling over him to merge and rut to overload as desperate as ever. They knew one another well enough that it was understood they did not hate each other - but he couldn’t leverage their offspring to have Starscream kneel to a picturesque idea of what they could be. 

“Not tonight.” 

“What?” Starscream is hovering too close to his door, scowling like an artform. 

“We can merge tomorrow if that is necessary - but tonight I want to rest.” 

“Of course it’s necessary! I--” There’s a vibration coming off Starscream’s wings that resonates with the smallest motion of The Right. “This isn’t just your decision.” 

“I’m not denying future occasions,” Growls irate against Starscream’s rising voice. “Tonight is simply not my preference.” 

“Oh how convenient for you!” Starscream dares to grip his arm, pulling and by his own strength forces Megatron back from the door. “To the pitt with your _preference_! You swore I could see them at any time, you wretched liar!” 

Megatron is taken aback by the claim and almost has to replay the memory to be certain he’s hearing correctly. 

“I never said you couldn’t! Besides, you’ve not asked -- busy rushing off at every opportunity!” 

“Because I have things to take care of! Because if I don’t you’re going to end up doing something stupid and risking your life!” Starscream looks ready to hit him, so at least they were in familiar territory. 

“We’re in a war Starscream, literally every moment of our existence is our lives being at risk.” 

“Well stop encouraging it!” Stressed voice cracks and they’re left huffing and puffing at one another, both confused on where the argument began or ended - or the point at all. It was far too easy to bicker with his Second and his children, safe within, seem to buzz at the disturbance. But all that does not prepare him for the absolutely miserable expression knitting across Starscream’s face. A look of swallowing iron brambles and pride as he digs thrusters down and grinds his jaw. 

“If I had known...we would have never gone to Thora. Is that what you’re upset about?” Starscream speaks like a confession, wings rattling low as humiliation pours from his stance. “I would have never let you enter that territory - we would have already BEEN on Cybertron where our heirs should emerge! It’s only right!” 

“Starscream,” 

“If you would have just trusted me then this mess wouldn’t have ever happened! I want to blame you but that’s not so easily done.” Starscream snarls inward and talons flash with irritation at his sides. “And now I’m what? Some ignorant sire who ignored the signs and could have gotten you killed?!” 

“You have shot me before.” He reminds Starscream with the edges of amusement in his voice, leaning back to enjoy the continued panic of his Second. 

“This is different you old bastard!” He looks up to snarl and notices then that Megatron has opened the door, standing in the frame with enough room for Starscream to follow. 

“I said you can see your children at any time, I meant it. Not just when they require your coding, not because I’m unconscious and you’ve saved our lives. Anytime you wish, because as you said: they are yours as much as mine.” He nods back towards the chambers crowded with equipment and new machinery for the ease of comfort. A pale glow from a energon dispensary now freshly installed on a far wall -- and a daunting new shape they both notice together. 

“A baby cage?” Starscream’s voice relaxes with surprise as he steps closer to examine the crib. Two berths, interconnected with high guards and coated railing. Equal size - and Megatron thinks Scrapper might have gotten carried away since they were both large enough to fit Starscream. 

“See that’s what I called them and Soundwave threw a fit.” Megatron watches Starscream press on the soft padded cot within, frowning as he examines what will hold their children in few weeks. 

“Well that’s what they are, containment units. Can’t have them rolling around and hurting themselves,” Starscream looks back, running his gaze across Megatron’s approaching form as the door shuts with a final lock click. Broad chest crossed with tired arms and more focused on trying to imagine that the things inside him will one day occupy these beds. “We should get one for you.” 

“Funny.” 

“I’m not kidding. You often remind me of a fledgling, with how you stumble and ---” Megatron cuts off further insult with the shift of his chestplate, the reeling gears and panels rolling back to cast a pale light across the seeker’s startled features. His spark chamber so freely on display for his Second while the other can only gape in what Megatron also has trouble comprehending.

“Oh no.” Starscream gasps and it sends a rather violent shudder through Megatron’s systems now red with fear. “The one on the Right is really fat, they’re going to hurt coming out.” 

“What is the regulation on not hitting the sire?” He groans and allows Starscream’s approach followed by the press of servo across the parted chamber. The proximity of their forms emitting a strange comfort that unfurls across his own spark - his creations too seem to rejoice in the presence of their sire. 

“Why would you hit me, look at how beautiful these children I gave you are.” He’s smiling and it’s both wicked and pleased with the edges softened with overwhelming joy Megatron thinks he can join. 

What remained unanswered aside, it was clear at least that they did share in this.

“Stay tonight.” 

“Why? Does my company soothe them?” Teases as he looks up at Megatron still enraptured by their creation.

“That too.” He pets the length of Starscream’s jaw and finds true relief that the motion seems welcomed. 

“I suppose I do have time to make up for.” 

\---

Soundwave’s communicae comes late into the night, rousing Megatron from a deep recharge - truly exhausted beyond measure that even the weight of Starscream’s leg strewn across his own feels impossibly heavy. He doesn’t move though, lacking both the strength and will as his seeker frowns in sleep. Digging his face deeper against the joint of Megatron’s shoulder and itching the berth’s surface with lazy claws. 

[Yes Soundwave?]

[Apologies. Prudent update from engineering.] Starscream exhales warm from multiple points across his body, pulling closer as if disturbed by the speechless conversation. [Quantum generators has been fully restored ahead of schedule. We are free to reach Cybertron at your command.]

[So soon?]

[It seems multiple members of the aerialforce aided in the progression. Starscream’s orders.]

Megatron bites down on a groan - or perhaps a laugh - because of COURSE Starscream did. [You must be excited to return.] A pause on the other end.

[The twins are eager to see if Shockwave has completed their request for missile launchers suitable for their stature.] Soundwave’s answer comes with the smallest turn of amusement in their tone. [Returning home is. As always. A relief...Are you not relieved?]

[I am concerned.] He admits, knowing such doubts would not translate well if shared with Starscream. Their current situation too fragile to confront with his own fears. [I feel as if my destiny is changing - no longer under my control.] There’s a flickering sensation across his chest, new even for the riled behavior of his sparklings. Something pulls and for a moment Megatron cannot differentiate between the two sparks - so normally separated in both action and demeanor. His concerns fade quickly of course as Starscream, still in recharge, turns his form. Stretches an arm across his chest and speaks a hissing language that Megatron can now understand since their merge…

Starscream hushing their sparklings - telling them they are not alone. 

[Negative, Lord Megatron.] Soundwave’s voice holds a certain peace and Megatron finds he is just now beginning to understand his long-known advisor. His friend, who has much more to lose than just their life. [Your destiny is not changed, only shared.]

Starscream chooses then to scuffle with a snore in the most unattractive manner, almost causing Megatron to laugh at his poor timing. 

[Begin the preparations, I’ll join you on the bridge momentarily.] He disconnects the line and takes a pause - trying to consider the best method of waking Starscream. Dangerous as it was, he was more disappointed their sleep had been disrupted. So rare were they able to remain near each other without argument, though it was clear sharper swords were sheathed as of late. 

He looked both ridiculous and perfect, curled into Megatron’s side. Arm small compared to the size of the chest where he calmed their heirs still locked in sleep. An unexpected instinct but Megatron was starting to realize that he would likely never know the full reason behind Starscream’s actions. Somethings would have to be left for another time - more pressing matters.

“This is your room, you don’t have to sneak out.” Starscream whines, optics still offline for the moment as Megatron tried to escape.. 

“Soundwave has informed me we are ready to jump.” He explains as simply as possible. “I was going to tend to the bridge.” That pulls Starscream from his lax position, red focus coming alight as he sits up. Still tangled across Megatron’s legs and one servo spread and balanced beneath the Decepticon insignia. 

“I’ll handle it.” Starscream corrects. “You require further rest.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Good for you.” He uses the servo to push Megatron back to the berth, leaning over him for a klik of observation. Strange reactions fluttering across his gaze. “Rest. You know Shockwave is just waiting at the docks with all sorts of delightful machines to hook you up to. In a rush?” 

Megatron grunts, letting himself relax back to the berth and submit to Starscream’s demands.

“That’s a good boy.” His seeker chuckles and dips his chin to press his mouth against the violet brand, sending a startled chill up Megatron’s back - and flooding his thoughts with much more intimate memories. “You two behave while I’m gone, your carrier has spoiled you.” 

“Have not.” He defends instinctually and is cut off as Starscream presses a kiss to his mouth. Silencing his voice with a warm and painfully brief kiss. 

“Rest. Refuel. I can’t have you embarrassing me on our triumphant return home.” 

“Triumphant?” He thinks on Thora, the devastating blow to their pride, and can’t imagine what’s triumphant about it.

“Of course, triumphant. We’re bringing the future lords of Cybertron home. What greater victory is there?” 

Starscream slips from reach before Megatron can grab him. A sudden desire to draw him back to berth and reward him for such pretty language. Starscream denies him, stepping off the berth and adjusts his outer armor. Making sure his seams are aligned and clean enough for an appearance before the troops. Leaving Megatron to oogle the pretty form (patchwork and all) on display.

“You heard your sire,” Megatron speaks low to his chest. “No bothering me Right, be kind to your sibling Left.” 

“About that.” Starscream lingers at the bedside with a wrinkled stare. “You can’t keep calling them those stupid names.” 

“It’s Tarnish tradition not to name a sparkling before learning their build and personality.” 

Starscream glares. “I know for a fact that’s a lie.” 

“It is, but I would still like to wait.” Megatron watches the edges of Starscream’s mouth nearly smile and he feels a certain victory at hand. Speaking next in the language of Vos, which felt flat by his vocals, but carried over well enough. “Even though we are aware of one build - I don’t think it’s fair to give them names before they have a chance to introduce themselves to us.” 

“Ugh. Fine. But we both have to approve the names. I won’t tolerate something ridiculous like whatever fool named you.” 

“I don’t know, I was thinking _Megacles_ and Megatitus..” 

Starscream grabs the nearest cushion, pressing it over Megatron’s face in a mocking attempt at smothering him - despite the lack of appropriate physiology. But it seems to make his seeker feel better and accept the attempt at a joke in stride. Moving to exit with only a short pause at the cribs - curious and intricate things neither seemed to know what to do with. 

“Bring us home Starscream.” Megatron orders across the room. Knowing full well he will not gain any further rest until his seeker returns to him.

Starscream gives a nod, his returning stare softer than Megatron ever imagined it could be. 

“Obviously.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I actually forgot that I didn't complete this chapter for last week and wanted to be sure to get it out today. 
> 
> Thanks for suffering through Megatron's emotions and sticking with me. Next chapter will be the finale as our doting parents return to Cybertron....and maybe meet their kids finally.


	7. Coming Home

It is an unsettling sensation, to be split between two homes. 

Megatron steps off the Nemesis, joining Starscream and the Command Trine on the lift down to the surface. Shockwave’s grand tower awaiting their arrival like a lone soldier standing tall, framed by the wreckage of their homeworld now burnt and bent from their endless war. Iacon a decaying corpse stretched across the planet’s surface - granting the illusion of life in echoed memories that simply will not reconcile with the remnants of the city-state. 

Starscream stands equal to his right, wings pulled back to allow room for them as they draw closer to the planet’s surface. Both watching the scattered pin pricks of colors of seekers pouring from the Nemesis now docked in the monstrous port above. Streaking across the open space to The Last Resort also dripping in vague familiar shapes of his soldiers. Colliding mechs of bladed wings and varied colors, regrouping from trines separated at Starscream’s evacuation orders. Like a hive clinging together, desperate in their wait to see who survived and who was left behind in the carnage above Thora. 

Tanks twist at the memory. Of Starscream darting across the open sky alight with Autobot artillery. His seeker’s body still wearing the cheap repairs and unpainted marks of that decision. Self sacrifice did not suit Starscream, but he still had acted without hesitation or proof that what Megatron claimed was true.

“Welcome home.” Starscream’s voice is a whisper across the tension budding in the small space and Megatron knows Starscream is speaking to their sparklings. Thundercracker and Skywarp grant them privacy, as much as can be afforded, but even Megatron feels their spying glances. Curious and still adjusting to the strange circumstances.

“They’re excited.” He answers, tracking the small ones erratic movement within.

“They should be, this is their inheritance after all.” 

Such a statement and it fills Megatron with a fearsome reminder of what he finds so appealing in Starscream. What captivated him in that dark room beneath a coliseum so long ago watching a proud mech kneel - not bow. That there was no other option in Starscream’s vision of his destiny other than victory. By any means he will achieve his wants, no matter the cost. It is both dangerous and wildly unstable, giving way to so many troubles that Megatron had once often wondered if Starscream was worth the mess...

Everytime, every single time, Megatron only had to look at the stubborness in his seeker’s ever-glaring face and knew the answer was: “of course he is”. 

_You hear that little ones?_ He thinks while the remainder of the trip falls quiet. A moment of silence as they mourn their fallen world. _Your sire is a terrible creature and you should aspire to be like him._

They join Shockwave at the high entrance to the tower, and only now because he is looking, does Megatron notice Shockwave does not seek out Soundwave in the approaching group. How long have the two been apart? How many years has it been since they returned to Cybertron? Even at their worst Megatron was always eager to have Starscream returned to him when duties or campaigns pulled them away from each other. 

Both out of paranoia that no one was watching the scheming brat, but also knowing he did not enjoy the quiet space his seeker left behind. What a sentimental fool he’s becoming, he blames his condition and nothing more. 

“Lord Megatron, Cybertron welcomes you home.” Shockwave bows, subtle and neat while the Command Trine fall rigid at his back in answer. Always so tense around one another, for so many reasons - but this rivalry was not their main concern. He tells Starscream as much with a look and by some miracle the seeker listens in the smallest sigh of wings. But doesn’t look happy about it. 

Then Shockwave’s singular optic fixes on Starscream and Megatron wonders which of the two he should have preemptively hushed. Shockwave, looking so unenthused ( which is a curious feat as Shockwave has no face), taking in Starscream’s appearance.

“Ah, and _you_.” He remarks and Megatron has to press a hand to Starscream’s shoulder to dissuade any thought of assaulting the scientist.

“Is that how you address a superior?” Starscream can’t help but hiss as they follow Shockwave towards the labs - needing more involved equipment to ensure the health of their sparklings. “Not to mention the SIRE of Cybertron’s heirs!” He said the title so proudly that Megatron allowed himself to share an impressed look with Thundercracker. 

“As I am not part of the military division, I cannot see your point.” Shockwave answers, posture lax as they step deeper into the tower’s belly. “Not to mention that Lord Megatron is doing all the work developing the heirs. Why should you be afforded any reward for minimal contribution?” 

[Are you going to let him speak to me this way?! I’m going to shoot him.] Starscream sends a quick comm, gnashing denta at Shockwave’s back.

[Honestly I’m impressed that you haven’t.] Megatron responds and maneuvers to walk closer to the seeker, who doesn’t reach even his chin in height, but stands proud as a titan. [But we do need him, and Soundwave will not forgive you.]

[Soundwave should have better taste.] Answers bitterly and there’s the smallest sensation of apprehension that travels between them. What tender ties remain from their merge granting Megatron better insight into the state of his seeker. Or perhaps such connection was meant for their sparklings and he’s just a spy to their shared thoughts? 

[They are well.] He attempts to reassure Starscream and receives a snarl for the efforts, but doesn’t take offense. Starscream never was good at being comforted. [And if they’re not...we’ll find a way to make them so. By any means necessary.]

The snarl fades into a stare, searching and uncertain of their new position within one another. Last night was, gentle and kind, but it did not solve everything. An understanding had been reached but it was as Soundwave had explained. His destiny was now shared with three others. Starscream was having to reconcile the same. 

[Well aren’t you a romantic bastard.] Starscream huffs, turning to glare at Shockwave’s back with murderous fantasy and for now they can return focus on the squirming balls of light trying to wrestle in his spark chamber.

 

The peace doesn’t last long. The moment they arrive at the exam room Shockwave had arranged, Starscream’s tensions hit a new high. But to be fair, so does Megatron’s as he’s made to submit to a great deal of uncomfortable (and unwanted) tests. 

Thundercracker and Skywarp are made to wait outside, for security Starscream explains. Which translates to Starscream not trusting Shockwave’s ability, and Megatron allows it. Giving Starscream something to gloat about as Shockwave carries himself with insult written across his posture. 

Shockwave’s labs were always Megatron’s least favorite locations in his daunting tower. Always a mess of genius strewn about in worrisome science. Displays of Shockwave’s constant experiments stacked high to the ever expanding ceiling. Chambers of unknown processes and gurgling pots - dissected machinery as grotesque as fresh corpses laid across cluttered surfaces. Shockwave was almost as chaotic as Starscream in his mess. Almost. Which gave Megatron little relief.

By the time the invasive scans had begun (Shockwave’s drones and automated machines worming their way inside Megatron’s body in ways that seemed inappropriate) he was glad after all that Starscream was at his side in this. If just for the moment the familiar sparks were brought on display, the superior monitors and finer screen able to make clear the blinding motion of what their optics could see. Starscream’s expression was simply...inspiring. 

“There they are.” His seeker gaped, having seen them not hours ago in the privacy of his quarters. Awed with the same intensity as the first time they’d merged and that was certainly Starscream’s strongest suit: letting his emotions get the best of him as excitement and wonder painted him a lovely figure at Megatron’s bedside. 

Shockwave’s machines were able to provide more information that the Nemesis’ ill-prepared medical bay. Readouts of the individual pulse, the shifting code, a perfectly highlighted diagram of the balls of life swaying low across Megatron’s spark chamber. The tether thin but not quite ready. The Right still greater in size, unknown entity as it was, but The Left had grown. Their color improved and twisting between shades of pale blue and flickers of green piercing from it’s core. Stronger. Stabilizing like their sibling as they’d begun the last weeks of development. 

“How’s the netting?” Starscream asked, abruptly turning to Shockwave with a professional tone as the scientist was driving the cameras. Steering the display deeper through Megatron’s body. (Megatron, whos been rebuilt time and time again feeling the foreign sensation of awkwardness at how free he’s had to be with his frame and intimate corridors. The Left does a spin like it’s mocking him.)

“Metallico development at 90 percent capacity.” Shockwave’s tone rises at the edge. “Far greater than expected. One might believe you were having a full brood.” 

Starscream gives a scowl like something was being hidden from him. 

“There ARE only two sparks within, correct?” Claws dig a little into Megatron’s shoulder like a threat.

“Correct.” Shockwave confirms and seems immune to Starscream and Megatron’s relief. “Only that, Lord Megatron, you are lucky you are the carrier.” 

“Explain.” Megatron orders, catching a nervous flick of Starscream’s wing at the edges of his sight. Wanting not to miss a klik of his sparklings swaying back and forth - matching one another’s rhythm and just as quickly failing to maintain it before starting up again. 

A game. They were already playing a game together. 

Megatron was wholly unprepared for the surge of emotion in response to such a plain observation - and Starscream’s puncturing claw soon fell to curl against the back of his pauldron. His seeker’s face battling stern attention and a giddy smirk of pride watching and realizing the same. 

Smiling at unformed sparks, what great changes that he’s more pleased than ashamed?

“Because the sheer size of their development would have torn me apart.” Starscream answers and it’s the first time Megatron has witnessed Shockwave and his Second agree on anything. He didn’t like it, but was far more concerned with the information given and must have made enough of a face to bring Starscream amusement. “Don’t worry, THAT wouldn’t happen without my permission.” 

“And what is that supposed to imply?” He thinks on the rather….many wreckless times Starscream and he could have sparked (no pun intended) such a mess, only in reversed roles. But Starscream doesn’t have a moment to embarrass them both with his response as Shockwave has his own means of turning their visit into something...strenuous.

“Perhaps not in the moment, seekers are quite good at manipulating their own bodies with ease. But once you are bonded a natural order will take precedence that not even trained cyber-biology will overcome. We will have to install intricate means of hindering further conception. That is, unless you wish to freely reproduce.” 

Megatron and Starscream are stunned to silence, an awkwardness growing with conversations not yet breached in such delicate times. Shockwave only stares back, the smallest antenna motion granting only the vaguest notion of calculation. Then understanding. 

“Ah.” Shockwave answers and closes a new window he’d prepared. “I assumed with your mutual obsession with traditional means, to lay equal claim on the sparklings…” 

Megatron knew Starscream’s temper well. Knew the tone and shape of it, the way it strained when embarrassed or smoldered when insulted. His immediate reaction was neither of those things. This sudden anger, spewing out from Starscream’s twisted face, was something raw and unplanned. It painted Starscream’s already dark face in shadows cut deep with ancient lines, something old within his code bubbling to the surface as The Left and Right responded in kind. Both sparklings growing energetic in echo of their parent’s reaction.

 _”I don’t need antiquated traditions to know they’re MINE.”_ He claims. A seeker-song at the flex of wings and the aerial language like blades in a breeze spilling past his tight lips. 

Shockwave doesn’t speak Vosian, one of the few things the brilliant mad mech has yet to uncover - so he looks to Megatron for translation. Posture tense in the face of such acidity that it leaves someone incapable of fear almost shaking.

“He said,” Megatron answers, torn between amusement and stunned obsession with every quaking inch of Starscream’s form. “Well, perhaps it’s best you don’t know - remain focused on what you’re best at Shockwave.” He orders and at his side Starscream’s field is like the edges of a sun radiating violent and warm - and terribly perfect. 

 

Shockwave’s reports were interesting. 

The Right’s expected frame type was still inconclusive, but The Left was stabilizing in the given code from their merge. There would be one seeker at least, one pair of wings for Starscream to teach to fly and that was enough for his Second. Snatching the downloaded reports and choosing not to speak to Shockwave again. Their sparklings were healthy, and growing faster than expected.

Two months was now a rather excessive estimation. 

Upon their exit Thundercracker and Skywarp seemed ready for a fight, likely having felt Starscream’s outburst, but a few quick motions of unspoken language later, they settled. Agreeing with Starscream on priorities and gathering their minds to address where they’re needed most. 

They intend to separate because they have jobs to do. Starscream to ensure his seekers and additional aerial force are receiving the attention they require and Megatron to regroup with his commanding officers and begin plans for the future. How to delegate tasks while he will be otherwise...indisposed. Their duties did not stop because of impatient children growing beneath Megatron’s insignia, nor could Starscream’s busy schedule or Megatron’s responsibility be ignored. 

Thundercracker and Skywarp are quick to linger at the corridor’s edge and steer the new influx of traffic away from their commanders. Speaking amongst themselves, fighting grins and any expression which might give away their true feelings on the matter. The Trine seemed pleased while watching their interactions. Leaving only Starscream still flushed and tight in his joints from Shockwave’s company.

“I’ll join you this evening if I have time.” Starscream mutters, stretching his jaw and trying his best to look aloof and distant from what had just occurred.

“If I have time for you.” Megatron adds and grins at the look his seeker gives him, as if to say he BETTER have time and there would be hell to pay if he wasn’t waiting at the day’s end. “Starscream,” 

“What?” 

“What you said in there…” In that horrible language like stars shattering across the void of space. His terrible seeker and his terribly ancient origins. Old fury shaped into a pristine appearance to make it easier to swallow. Megatron mourns not knowing the Vosian language before if this was how Starscream used his home-tongue. 

“Dont.” Starscream warns, clearly embarrassed in the face of Megatron’s delight. “I didn’t mean--” 

Until Starscream’s rather public display not a day ago - they have never shown one another affection so openly. It was understood it was not wanted, that their trysts in dark rooms and unspoken times was not meant to be seen. Rather, it was less than a secret. Something to smother and let die - forgotten when not tearing into one another on those rare occasions they simply had _need_ to taste the other. 

So it was raw and new. Drawing Starscream in to a kiss without the shelter of storage walls or a locked suite door - cradling red hips beneath his great hands and holding him close. Wondering if he can dent that dark mouth with his own, leave a mark of his coloration across lips bared to filed teeth ready to bite and bleed him in the kiss like a seal. 

Parting is nearly impossible, feeling Starscream’s claws slip from where they clung to his shoulders. The awkward shift of legs and the greedy call of one spark to the other. Wanting more. Needing more now that more had once been given - a mere taste when the spirit was starving. 

“You romantic bastard.” Megatron teases, stroking the length of Starscream’s slack jaw as the seeker’s mind catches up with his standard of dignity at being swept off his pedes in the middle of a busy corridor at Megatron’s whim. 

“I’m going to hit you twice once they’ve emerged.” He threatens like a lover’s poem and Megatron’s deep chuckle causes Starscream’s mouth to twist against a battled smile. “Get to work, you’re not useless. Yet.” 

“Don’t get used to ordering me around, Starscream.” Warns with little to no grit behind his words as Starscream finally withdraws and makes it all the more difficult to remain still. “I won’t tolerate it much further.” 

“Well then, I should seek to be more selective when it would benefit us both.” 

Only Soundwave’s urgent calls keeps Megatron from dragging Starscream back into the nearest enclosed space and making the same wonderful mistakes. 

\---

The day grows busy and it’s the only thing keeping Megatron’s mind off Starscream and his most-surprising declaration in Shockwave’s lab. 

The Last Resort requires extensive repairs but The Nemesis takes priority and that starts a fight between engineers. There are lesser officers hoping to use the tragedy of The Tragedy and Thora as means to usurp their own commanders and Megatron learns later that Starscream is dealing with a very similar situation. 

It’s nice that blood in the water is enough distraction to keep the topic of conversation off his current carrier status, but that doesn’t make wrangling bitter and greedy subordinates any easier. There are supplies to manage, new plans to review and priorities to set as this chaos left two grand flagships crippled and one humbled by Autobot power. 

Soundwave assures they will find the traitors and Starscream has already begun weaving such investigation. Claiming that only HE is allowed to end their miserable lives. That’s something to discuss later, for now keeping his soldiers from killing one another - and news of his state spreading past the Decepticon’s aboard the Nemesis - is crucial for their security. 

Of course none of this means his sparklings had to give a single frag about what their carrier required. 

It was important to remain a strong figure in these stressful times, so the restlessness of children with their simple games had to be ignored. Megatron sat through hours of meetings, arguments and clandestine agreements all while his children tried their best to turn tanks and drag his own spark down by their thin tether. More than once Soundwave had to supply him with a lo-grade energon canister to settle his crashing levels. At times needing to make up excuses for Megatron to leave the room temporarily while he fought vertigo produced by bratty sparks doing their absolute best to kill him.

Too much like Starscream it seemed. He takes it back, be nothing like the sire.

“They’re better behaved when Starscream is near.” He comments to Soundwave as they have a moment of peace, allowing the officer to check his vitals. No cause of alarm or else Starscream would be kicking down the door and yelling at him most likely. 

“Spark balance. The presence of both creators is a comfort.” Soundwave seems so sure of their explanation Megatron wonders how much of Soundwave’s knowledge is just confidence or experience. Unlike Starscream, Soundwave had nothing to prove. No need to boast or brag to be seen as capable. They simply were and that alone was an impressive feat. 

“What keeps you from bonding to Shockwave?” He asks, violating many rules he’s set for himself and his behavior with subordinates Starscream excluded). But Soundwave never felt like a subordinate. More like, an extension of his will with a mind all the more suited for the work Megatron could not even begin to fathom. A Brother at Arms. He wondered if that would make sense, using a trine as an explanation next time his seeker grew jealous. 

“Our decision to continue without forming a proper conjux is mutual.” Soundwave does not seem bothered by the personal question. They never seem bothered by Megatron’s behaviour until recently when he was unsure on Starscream’s place in the sparklings lives. That had struck a nerve it seemed, but this? A most intimate and private question they offer up answer without pause. “We don’t see need of it.” 

“Allegedly you become closer, unified to your partner.” Megatron has heard tales, read descriptions, listened to old miners of their adored lost long ago through the hellish brutality of their enslaved lives. He had wanted such a companion in his youth but just like the idea of heirs, of sharing his legacy, sharing more of himself seemed impossible. 

“We cannot imagine being closer.” Soundwave arranges information across the many data pads scattered before them. Each in their perfect place, glyphs moving faster than Megatron might comprehend all expertly controlled by a single nod of Soundwave’s helm. “Most bond, then create new life. You’re concerned there are expectations between Starscream and yourself that you are failing?” 

Megatron huffs instead of answering, because he has none, expectations that is. Sharing their offspring with Starscream was accepted, knowing the seeker would now always be a part of him - understood and almost rejoiced. It had been a long time coming, realizing he did not want a day without the menace keeping him on his pedetips. Inspiring both brutality and nobility despite himself. 

But what more? They were hardly the type to proclaim affections towards one another...

“Suggested course of action?” 

“Any direction would be helpful.” Grunts, stroking a sore shoulder and wondering if he could trick Starscream into tending to the ache. Doting as a parent he might be - how long will Starscream tolerate being gentle when such was not in his nature? 

“Courtships are not so final a thing. Bonds are. Perhaps focus small, raise your children - learn to exist with Starscream before more is expected.” That draws a laugh, more energetic than Megatron feels he was ready for. The Right begins to settle in close to his spark while The Left continues with nefarious loops at the length of their hold. Testing their limits now with renewed strength.

Distantly he swears he can feel Starscream like a soft glance over a pale wing. 

“You’re saying I should try first _dating_ the sire of my children?” Soundwave shrugs and it’s almost comical. 

“It wouldn’t hurt, unless his idea of courtship is shooting you.” 

\---

It is an unfortunate turn of events that prevents Megatron and Starscream from keeping their agreement to see one another at the day’s end. 

Autobots are caught sneaking into Decepticon territory to investigate the return of The Nemesis - an impossible ship to hide. There are contingencies and failed equipment runs, trouble in a far sector which leaves Megatron strapped into a communications hub alongside Soundwave for a solid day - and in such process Starscream is expected to deploy his seekers to settle an incursion alongside the southern border of Praxus. Quelling the smallest return of enemy presence and it takes two days before he can return. 

All the while the sparklings are clearly upset - and when Megatron rests it is unsettled. Brief and pained when he wakes and survives the next day of what he hates the most: sitting and ordering others while he is unable to act himself. 

During this time the constructicons are able to gather with other medics and specialists and begin work on his physical upgrade after sustaining so much damage. Nothing can be done until the emergence but he is not interested in being out of commission for long. This welded together form will not suffice in protecting what is his. His empire, his authority - and now his family. 

Such becomes highlighted in his observations of Shockwave and Soundwave. While all are busy he is able to catch moments within gathered Decepticons all shuffling and distracted. Work for more than they have gathered here to be ready to fly again and ensure they have not allowed the precarious balance to tip. Megatron watches Shockwave, his cold scientist, walk with Soundwave’s twins clinging to his legs. Children cackling as they are carried, Shockwave’s servo resting on Rumble’s helm while he keeps helm bowed to discuss privately with Soundwave. Both looking untouched by the chaos swarming around them, pleasant in the stillness of the moment. Unified. 

Megatron very much doubts he will ever share such an idealistic scene with his seeker. Such pretty imagery did not match their relationship.

But he very much would like Starscream returned to him and never far from his sight again.

 

It’s on the third day apart that the seekers return. Late into the designated night, Megatron only knowing of his return by the sound of pedes across the floor of his chambers. The familiar swell of his spark as Starscream draws near - following a tendril of connection which had faded slightly in absence. Little time to prepare as his berth is invaded by the shape. Servos bossing Megatron’s limbs until he lay on his back staring up at the returned seeker smelling of fire and fuel. Of scorched space and vibrating beneath his touch when he dared rest hands on spread pale thighs that hugged Megatron’s waist. 

He observed his Starscream’s shape in the dark. The wings long and falling to either side like a parted banner. The angles of his torso and slim little waist both obscene and hypnotic. Red optics glaringly bright in the surrounding silent night, focused on Megatron and nothing else.

“Did you miss me?” Coy little voice, no more than a whisper as Megatron’s hands traveled up the lean frame. Across still-unrepaired plating and humming joints that shivered where he pressed.

“They did.” He exhales from vents, causing Starscream to rise as heat caressed wings.

“I meant you.” He corrects and shudders when Megatron’s servo covers the glass canopy where beneath Starscream’s spark is calling. Fingers tracing elegant seams up the curved shape, watching oStarscream’s optics shutter in response. “But if you didn’t I suppose I can---” 

“Stop.” Orders, pressing his thumb down with implied urgency against the line of Starscream’s chest. Watching that thin mouth flicker to a smile. “Now.” 

“So bossy.” Starscream’s grin transformers into a smile as he folds at the waist, chambers shifting and opening in time with Megatron’s own and the light is absurd. Blinding him unprepared as their sparks greet one another with grand displays - almost needing to turn away until sharp claws rest under his chin. Guiding his face through the glare and without seeing he feels Starscream’s mouth press to his. The silver tongue against his welcoming gasp and there’s a growl whispered onto his lips as Starscream’s spark melds with his own. Invasive and hot - curling their bodies inwards while every sensor and nerve is flooded with the existence of the other. 

They merge while Starscream kisses him, possessive and starved, until neither can recall the limits of their bodies. A singular mess finding ways to fit broken edges together. A soft touch, a sharp noise, their lives and memories - intimate knowledge at the very core of their code dripping through the other as every node and nerve is stroked with a surge of energy provided by the smallest touch. 

Stripped raw and licked open by the waves of shared vitality now pulsing through each their bodies respectively. Granting no need to fuss or worry on position or power when the merge came to a shuddering close. Chambers sealing back in place while others snapped open, wet and inviting. 

No pride wounded in the blinding moment of Starscream guiding Megatron to his elbows. Kiss breaking as Starscream’s lesser height would not reach with his hips pressing up and into Megatron’s spread body. But the seeker mouthed the lip of his chest panel, glossa drawing pleasing motions against armor never so sensitive unless a victim of Starscream’s mouth. All while Starscream thrust in even pace, watching Megatron in return, neither willing to turn away from what they do best: need one another. 

It feels brief and yet forever, eventually Starscream pouring across Megatron’s chest in a heaving mess. Megatron gathering the spent seeker in arms and wanting him where he can better see that expressive face - hold him by the delicate chin and watch pleasure and depletion overwhelm and control him. Looking likely the same, sensitive and exposed whenever Starscream’s sharp teeth bared in the smile which was always so devastating. Shining only for him. 

“So, you did miss me.” He joins Starscream’s self-serving laugh until Megatron decides mouthing the unguarded line of his throat is much more important. 

 

 

They’re expected to rise soon, to take command of the waiting Decepticon force just outside the locked door of the habsuite - but Megatron is certain he would agree to an hour’s truce just for a moment longer of this. 

Starscream is no longer in recharge, but he’s pretending to be. Curled against Megatron’s chest, leg burrowed between Megatron’s own while a servo rests above the spark chamber. Protective and aware of what precious entities rest beneath, but not yet willing to admit he is awake. Perhaps enjoying the moment, or perhaps planning his escape from the tender embrace.

He’s warm and smells of war, of debauchery and polish which clings to Starscream’s wings no matter the situation. Even when they huddled together beneath a sky of laser fire and enemy threats, Starscream smelled like polish and war and yes it was a tragic thing they were such stubborn beings that it took them so long for this.

Somewhere between the second and fifth merge, Megatron asked Starscream to join him on an outing. It was likely due to the sensation of being drunk on their woven sparks, the quivering charge riding their bodies as they found themselves unable to stay apart for long, that Starscream agreed. It could also be that Megatron’s glossa was in a very sensitive location and Starscream would have agreed to anything just to get him to focus judging by the way pale thighs squeezed his helm afterwards. 

He tumbles a laugh low in his vocal box, noting the absurdity of it all. The perfection.

“What’s funny?” Starscream reveals himself, shuffling lightly at the side.

“Nothing.” Megatron lies and allows Starscream free movement in his grasp, the seeker sitting up to glance. Bright optics still lethal in the dark, looking for something and perhaps finally finding it in the way wings remained lax and heavy behind him. Megatron reaches up, strokes a thumb over Starscream’s chin and feels the seeker give just a little - resting the smallest bit of his weight against Megatron’s touch.

“I should return to my quarters...” He dares to suggest and Megatron finds he does not have the injury to be insulted.

“Are you saying that only so I’ll tell you to stay?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then stay.” Megatron gives him what he requires, slipping his servo to gently cradle the back of Starscream’s helm and guide the grinning face downwards. Kissing him lazy and soft, little more than a brush of mouths to push back on impending conversations neither want to ruin the moment. 

“Where will we be going on this, outing of yours?” Starscream questions, settling in under Megatron’s chin and drawing odd shapes across the expanse of his chest. “Knowing you I’ll hate it.” 

“Knowing you I’ll end up shot.” 

Starscream hums and wings bounce with his stifled laugh which Megatron follows with the edges of his fingers until he can reach no further.

“Not until after the emergence.” 

After the emergence. 

What shape will their lives take after such an event? They can never go back, to their bitterness and suffocated desire. No way to ignore what now they see is shared and uncertain - leaving Megatron wondering what comes next? 

The Left stirs, The Right sways and Starscream falls back asleep with little urging perfectly relaxed in Megatron’s guard. 

Yes. There is no going back. 

Good.

\---

Their “liason” as he hears Skywarp refer to it over the mess hall, is delayed by two weeks. They return to Cybertron and the few Autobots residing still on their desolate home all decide it’s time to try their hand at sabotage. Constant attacks at the border, spies slipping in and out of their grasp while Soundwave does their best to keep things orderly as possible. The repairs for The Last Resort become more pressing, the ship required in joining nearby fleets to escort carrier crafts back home. To get the Nemesis running as the crown jewel of his Armada. 

They are all kept busy, but every resting hour Starscream returns to his chambers - or he to wherever his seeker has fallen into recharge. Sometimes propped against a workbench with scattered tools or curled in an empty drum meant for supplies - looking both angry and startled to be found there by Megatron. 

Starscream is not, terrible at a sire’s duties. He manages peaceful conversation with Soundwave and Hook when in regards to Megatron and the sparklings’ health. Required equipment or crafting projects expertly overseen and all those involved kept on guard by Starscream’s watchful sneer. 

It is the...caretaking division where he falters. Often times threatening Megatron to rest when there is no time. More than once ordering Skywarp and Thundercracker to play escort when Starscream could not keep tabs on him with their chaotic lives. Two weeks of gentle nights highlighted by bossy and argumentative days - Megatron wasn’t sure at the end of it if they were gaining or losing ground.

Until Starscream would slip his servo over Megatron’s wrist as their duties so rarely were shared. Walking at his side to their intended destination and requiring a small form of contact to get through the day. Such small, but necessary moments for the sparklings sake, and to settle his own nerves. Megatron now understanding how physical seekers are and did his best not to overstep...only to learn further that the mere act of touching the back of Starscream’s neck, or thinking to stroke his chin when they kissed was almost enough to curb the worst of Starscream’s mood swings. 

They knew one another so well, and there was still so much to learn. 

\---

It takes two weeks to crush the dangers across the border and allow for Megatron to step out of the tower...all while Starscream complains.

“This is a stupid idea.” He claims, again, for the tenth time since they left the escort team at the edges of Kaon. Starscream looks unhappy but he still takes Megatron’s assisting hand as they step across the ruins of the old city. Traveling deeper into the quiet streets both burned and toppled by years of war. Once rusted cityscape no longer recognizable as the memories Megatron holds close. The land where his freedom began, the start of the Decepticons and where he raised his first flag. It was a crypt, little better than a graveyard in the shadow of devastation. A death Megatron still has not recovered from, the day they lost Kaon to pay for their next great step in this war. 

While Tarn had been his home, Kaon was his origins and will always hold the first stitch of fate in the tale of his legacy. 

“We could lose reception in these old tunnels.” Starscream tries again as they fall deeper into Kaon-lesser, the shroud of the old city cutting off the sky, Megatron is not bothered. And in fact doesn’t hear Starscream’s complaints until the seeker moves to stand before him, cutting him off from further entry towards the hollow slums just beyond. “This isn’t safe, remind me again why we couldn’t bring my trine? Or any additional soldiers?” 

“Our forces are present throughout the city,” He dismisses the concern. “We’re hardly in danger.” 

“We’re not just _us_ anymore.” Starscream motions towards Megatron’s chest and The Left and Right have been quiet that day. Ever since they rose and made their way across Cybertron neither of their children have been much interested in the ongoings of their parents. Perhaps resting, they were growing quickly - it must be exhausting for them as well. 

“Would you allow anything to happen?” Megatron questions and finds the insult in Starscream’s proud eyes exactly what he needed. 

“Never.” Snarls. “But I don’t like risking more than we should.” 

“Then let’s be quick.” Megatron agrees, walking forward and guiding Starscream to his side, keeping one servo comfortable on a pale shoulder while the other remained vigilant. Paranoid at their surroundings. Megatron wasn’t stupid, ahead of them Ravage kept watch - stalking soundless and swift through the seemingly endless underground while Laserbeak and Buzzsaw kept to the skies. He did not want company on their short excursion but he wasn’t trusting just the soldiers lingering atop broken buildings or routine patrols to join them.

Yet this was important, and had to be them alone.

They travel for another hour of Starscream complaining, which only grows in volume when Megatron finds he needs to rest. Refuel. They’re almost there so he chooses to ignore the strain and press on, hopefully convincing Starscream of his stability where his limbs feel heavier than ever. 

He’s heavier than before actually. Hardly vain but he can see it, fattened lines to better feed the spark’s within - the stored metallico pushing his frame to capacity. Starscream made a joke about dropping Megatron like a bomb onto Prime’s unsuspecting head - crushing him flat. That earned him three minutes kicked out of the chambers until the sparks missed their sire and the punishment was cut short. 

He follows the path forever etched into his mind. The winding path and maddening labyrinth-like turns somehow surviving the years of bombs and mayhem above. A city without a sky living beneath Kaon-proper where Megatron could never forget no matter who tried to take it from him. Thankfully by the time he’s winded and sore, unable to hide such from Starscream, they’ve arrived. Megatron making his way to an odd shape to sit, resting out on a rusted strip of metal while Starscream looks disappointed.

“How pretty.” He sneers, unimpressed in the crowded room of rust and broken machinery. Dusty floors discolored with dried fuel stains and grease - cracked from wear and unpleasant in appearance. 

“I think so.” Megatron’s only watching Starscream when he speaks and the seeker only enjoys the complement until he notices more trash to flare at. Wings gathered close as if afraid of catching them on jutting edges of equipment abandoned in the room. 

In two weeks Starscream found time for repair. Better fitting armor plating, paint and polish made him the most beautiful thing to ever step foot in this chamber. Megatron thought so then, and still does now as the glossy pale finish of his seeker manages to catch what pitiful light could worm it’s way so far below ground. Through massive cracks of the tunnel lines and the fading glow of lights working only out of comical desperation and Megatron’s orders to keep the power on if they could. 

He watches, tired but regal as he waits for Starscream to stop twitching and realize where they are. Almost laughs when it clearly sinks in, but thinks better of it. Catching the seeker’s optics flash and go wide, suddenly glancing here and there as Starscream rebuilds the room from old memories and faded moments. 

“You old sap.” Starscream disguises his shock with amusement, looking up to the old exam chair still somehow remaining. 

“Don’t like it?” Megatron watches Starscream take a step, one more, nudging himself into position just below the chair - looking upwards and his smile is almost fond. “Ah, there he is.” 

“Muh-Megatron!!” Starscream suddenly exclaims, falling to a knee in a sweeping bow - as he did once before. Helm lowered only for the moment as Megatron couldn’t then restrain himself from the full laugh which left him dizzy. Dependant now on the chairback to keep himself upright. “Was it like that? Did I flash a pretty smile? How did I look up there on that day?” 

“You looked like trouble.” Megatron answers, turning his memories to how young and fragile Starscream looked. How after that moment his seeker never looked fragile again once he saw how brutal such a lovely thing could be in the skies. “You still look like trouble.” 

“Oh? Well you have a type then.” Starscream picks himself off the ground, frowning at the dust on his knees but permits himself the momentary imperfection. Moving to step over piled trash and broken metal to reach Megatron’s seat. Hovering at his right where they were now of level height and able to see one another equally for the first time in years. Blue claws drew gentle across his cheek and Megatron forgot to fear the danger of his touch. “Absurd fool.” 

“You have a type” He mimics tenderly as hands pet his jaw.

“And so I do.” Starscream’s servo falls to rest across the insignia above his spark - for the first time the little ones do not clamber for the attention and that should worry Megatron. But he is quickly soothed by a kiss, lingering for the moment until Starscream presses their brows together, his smile simple and soft but ever-guarding teeth sharp enough to tear him apart. And that was somehow only appealing. 

“I wanted to travel here with you, as a reminder.” 

“Of where we started?” 

“Of how far we’ve come.” Megatron intends to cradle the edge of Starscream’s hip and his arm will not move. His processor struggles to perceive the malfunction and no warnings ring out across his system. Sensation begins to fade across his limbs and his computers do not seem to notice it’s a bad thing.. “I wanted this place to hold witness to us - as we are here for a new vow.” 

“A new vow.” Starscream echoes, looking bothered by the words. “If you’re asking me to swear allegiance again - to protect our children out of duty - I’m going to start swinging.” 

“I’ve no doubt you’re going to be exactly the sire these brats need. You pledged yourself to me, which has taken many forms over the years. This time it’s my turn.” Starscream does not regard him with suspicion, but stupor is close enough. 

“You can’t be my equal while still being my superior.” Starscream tries to drip bitterness into the moment, to spare himself discomfort as Megatron offers of himself what he once could not comprehend.

“But if I’m yours, isn’t my power also yours?” He asks, quieter than he expected to be, or perhaps it’s due to the plummet of his fuel pressure which raises no concern across his system. 

“Oh? Is that what you want? To be mine?” 

“You’re looking for a scheme, but you won’t find one.”

“Yes well-” Bites his lip, wings flutter, and his dark face plating looks close to steaming from the heat swelling across the delicate features. Awkward, out of his element at being so abruptly cornered by kind words - truly Starscream’s only weakness. “This is hardly the setting for these kinds of declarations. You expect me to conjux without warning? You’re mad.” 

”I don’t need antiquated traditions to know you’re mine.” He uses Starscream’s own words against him proudly. “Just say you will have me and that will be that.” 

“That’s a cheap trick!” Starscream hisses but the noise ties off into a harsh grunt, clearing of the vocal box to try and regain some sense of presentation. Focus shifting back and forth from Megatron’s face to the room where they stand, both seeing it as it was then. Fuel stained and overstacked with mechs and tired sparks. Hungry warriors ready to be more than raging beasts dancing at the spill of coin. A gladiator who would be king and a seeker who would serve in building an empire. 

And that they would share in the raising the next to carry on such a legacy, it was poetic.

No wonder Starscream hates it, not a poetic wire in his frame. 

“You could at LEAST kneel.” Starscream huffs, struggling between crossing his arms and holding Megatron’s wrist. Torn between his want of affection and his terror at knowing he can have it whenever he pleases. “I knelt then, you can kneel now and THEN I’ll say yes.” 

“Ah,” Megatron can’t feel his limbs, or his torso, but he can look kindly upon Starscream. Features resting and reflecting the moment of earnestly between them. “I would kneel, just this once. For you. But there’s one problem.” 

Starscream frowns. “What? Old knees finally given out? I thought you’d be jumping for JOY that I’m agreeing to tolerate you longer.” 

Megatron has lost command of 80% of his frame, his limbs heavy and nerves still to a vague dull sensation at the edges of his field. His body has gone numb but his spark is overwhelmed. Filled to capacity at the promise tomorrow will bring.

But more importantly, his spark is full of crackling energy as two tethers detach from his core. A violent surge throughout his frame and Starscream’s tender expression swept away by horror. 

“Because your children are impatient little monsters!” Megatron responds and almost breaks his own hand at the strangling, all-consuming pain that rips through his body. 

 

\---------------------------------

There was good news, and there was bad news.

The good news is that they didn’t lose reception and Skywarp was there (screaming at the sight of Lord Megatron snarling and bending a medical chair in half as his body tried to split in two) His trinemate yelling “stop calling me like this!” and they could teleport. Megatron was stable enough despite the horrendous sounds pouring from clenched denta. The three crashing into the medical bay of Shockwave’s tower and interrupting a very confused triple changer getting a splinter removed. 

“You have to stop doing this!” Hook yelled at them but Megatron grabbed him by the collar plate, lifted him off the floor and snarled:  
**“Be. Silent and get these brats out of me!”**

Then all hell broke loose in a thunderous stampede to reach Megatron. Get him to the medical berth, prepare vital scans, ensure his gestation chamber hadn’t ruptured. Bodies yelling over each other to fetch Soundwave, bring energon feeds, orders to lock down the tower sector in case of attack! A cluster of medical bots and engineers all scrambling, pushing into one another while Megatron was struck with another startling pain and his fist went through a monitor (and narrowly a drone’s hovering form). 

The good news is that Starscream only had to fire once into the crowd, sending a minibot crumbling to the floor, before he could take command of the situation. He knew which medics he wanted and which he’d be fine with throwing off the rooftops (and in fact, Skywarp volunteered to do exactly that). Soundwave arrived and that was, acceptable. He needed someone he could trust (enough) to keep the mess at bay. Manage the rumors that would be flying while Shockwave inserted himself into the chaos.

The good news is that Starscream finally got to punch someone.

Even better, it was Shockwave after the scientist asked why Starscream would _allow_ Megatron out in his condition. There’s even a moment where Soundwave and he share a look, agreeing that Shockwave deserved it - or at least that’s what Starscream is going to tell himself. 

The good news is that nothing ruptured. The chamber was still together and comfortably holding the solidifying metallico forms that were now brought to life by the descended sparks. Starscream had learned a great deal about Megatron’s strange anatomy, so different from his own in these 2 recent weeks. But similar enough that he threw an assistant into the hall when they suggested sedating Megatron as the behemoth of a mech had destroyed two drones now and his roars were hopefully waking up the universe. 

Starscream handled Megatron while Hook and his team did the rest. Reaching up to cradle the tense face that regained the ability to move, but lost the function of speech as his computers were rather busy at the moment. 

The good news is he slaps Megatron once in the face and that seems to snap him from the primitive state, clearing the fog from dark red optics and returning Megatron - his posh champion - back to him.

“This is going to take awhile.” Starscream told him, bringing their brows back together as Megatron began to pace. Walking backwards led by the greater form - Megatron’s servos tight on his shoulders. Teeth bared, snarling with each intake of breath. “You’ve been through worse.” 

“Have I?” Megatron’s vocal box strains and goes static as another contraction tears through,. This was only the beginning as the months of his body building the secure netting were starting to rip away from his interior chambers. Hardly fun.

“Of course and probably by my hand, now stop complaining.” 

“You are a paragon of comfort Starscream.” 

Starscream pulls his wing out of the way as Megatron flexes instinctively for something to break, blinded by pain and the rush of dusty protocols his computer likely never expected to use. 

“Flirt later. Bring me my children now.” He kisses Megatron’s cheek because it seems to comfort him - or perhaps it comforts Starscream more - but it draws a nod from his powerhouse of a leader and it seems they have an understanding. “Hook, he’s all yours.” 

The bad news is...

No matter how he believed to be, Starscream was not prepared. 

After hours of waiting. Of Megatron breaking more medical items and stomping around the suite with a vicious cry. Hours of herding this goliath back to the berth or else his fury would summon a new war to fight. Hours ignoring threats against his person (because it had been almost adorable to listen to Megatron blame him for his current state) and the heaving panting sounds while Megatron clutched at Starscream’s servo. Left bewildered and raw from this pain so different from anything they could ever experience on a battlefield. 

The bad news stopped Starscream in his tracks and left him voiceless - hours later staring at the closed chamber center of the room of spilled fuel and fading screams. Megatron’s shape unmoving where he lay beneath silver sheets and unplugged machines. 

“It doesn’t have wings.” Starscream mourned, looking over into the incubation chamber where two oblong shapes struggled to solidify in their new bodies. Soft, malleable material shifting over the brilliant form of their sparks now freed from Megatron’s frame and beginning to settle into their own shape.

“We don’t know that.” Megatron speaks from the berth, looking both exhausted and annoyed and Primus help him Starscream finds it endearing. His great old gladiator spent after bringing new life into existence and still awake to comfort Starscream’s pout. Good. If he stays as attentive Starscream might not leave him when he’s annoying. “Bring them here.”

“Don’t order me around.” Starscream already has servos on the cart base, guiding the hovering tray towards the bedside and angling the incubator where Megatron can see without much trouble. Two fist sized things moving against the newfound chaos of the world. The largest already finding its legs and kicking while the smaller keeps trying to burrow itself into the insulation meant to keep it steady and warm.

They were wet, distorted things. Hideous and strange and Starscream loved them more than anything he’s ever loved before. Which was a short list, but the thought counted.

“It might still develop wings.” Megatron was smiling in a way only Starscream knew. The miniscule bow of his lips - the gentleness in his expression almost maddening. Such a strange creature, his Megatron. Both a monster and a king. Someone help Starscream, he’s been ensnared. 

“Maybe.” He frowns, reaching through the dome of light keeping out foreign bodies and sterilizing anything that passed through. Pressing a digit against the back of the smaller one where pin prick nubs were already forming: the beginnings of external joints. Their sibling lacked these, but Starscream found he only mourned the loss until the largest shape stretched a new-formed mouth in a bizarre and misshapen yawn. “Oh no it’s perfect.” He cooed in his native language - curling claws around the strange body, feeling it hiccup in the disturbance before settling it back down closer to their sibling. 

“Did you have any doubt?” Megatron questions, moving to press his servo into the sterile field, nuding the smallest with a knuckle that was the size of the bitlet’s head. 

“Well they are half yours so---” Starscream smiles, pleased to draw a groan out of his leader as it means Megatron was regaining strength. Slowly, it will take some time, but soon he’ll be transferred to his new outer armor and then Starscream can punch him. Twice. But for now, their children are too fragile to be held - too weak to risk burying his face into their wet little bellies - so he will have to settle for nudging his nose against Megatron’s audial receptor. Pressing his weight gentle into the other’s warmth, letting himself relax for the first time since Thora. 

Since Soundwave told him Megatron was the cause of that obscene explosion on the planet’s surface. Risking his life to give the seekers a chance to retreat, and worst of all, that his foolish Megatron didn’t have a way back to them.

“This was a terrible idea.” He laughs within a sigh and is delighted when Megatron’s hand shifts to press against his back. Stroking weary plates across his arched struts, sharing comfort in their moment away from expectation of the world beyond. Able to ignore the pressure of legacy and war, of everything that existed outside of Megatron’s pulse echoing through his own - and the gentle thrums joining along of two little creations nestled together safely in their shadow. 

“Do you regret it?” Megatron doesn’t sound worried which is a start, they have so much more learning to do and only have wasted how many millions of years? Ugh. He hopes there isn’t a test. 

“No.” Starscream brushes Megatron’s servo in the chamber. “Not until they’re annoying and I send them to bother you with promises of firing the fusion cannon.” Megatron winces but Starscream’s pulse settles realizing it’s with humor rather than pain, shaking his great helm in mocking disgrace and closes his grip around Starscream’s wrist. Pulling their hands from the chamber to allow the little ones rest - much needed and well deserved. 

“Glad you’re prepared.” He rests their servos on his own chest, leaning back into the berth and giving no sign of letting go - but all the signs of falling into recharge. Trapping Starscream there to either keep watch on him, or their children, or just to keep him close. Starscream forgets to pretend to hate it. 

“Someone has to be, I know you haven’t been planning for the next few years.” 

“I tried to vow myself to you didn’t I?” He complains without bringing his sights online, expression still soft and trusting. 

“Well you can try again when these little brats can be alone in a room without killing themselves from tripping.” Starscream already has communicated to TC that no one should disturb them until he summons. Skywarp knows to handle the seekers and pass temporary command onto Soundwave - until Starscream is free to take it back. “I still have to say yes don’t I?” 

It’s funny. It was one time.

It was only one time and solely because Megatron had looked so appealing, noble face watching Starscream like he was the only thing in the universe. He’d even said _please_ , first time for everything, and Megatron had startled and shivered when Starscream had teased his insignia and trusted him with such an intimate piece of himself... couldn’t believe he’d ever hesitated to ask before. It had been almost impossible not to ask again. 

It was one time.

It only took one time and now Cybertron is quiet, his partner is resting and their sparklings are safe. 

Starscream rests against Megatron’s body, letting himself be soothed by the powerful pulse beneath. A heavy arm moves to wrap his back, holding him secure while Starscream keeps optics on their creations for now. Eager to see what next terrible ideas they come up with, together. 

 

The end.


	8. Crowns and Creations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus chapter

 

The Nemesis is quiet in the late hour save for the ever-present rumble of grand engines carrying them through space and stars at impressive speed. Their home away from Cybertron, ever evolving as their needs demand, a gem among the death-machines that Megatron calls his own.

Megatron holds himself tall, proud as he moves through the familiar shape. The call of thunderous engines a lullaby to his spark and restless mind as new territories awaited them - taking them further from home than a mere miner would ever have dreamed. From a humble little room where a seeker gave him the first taste of what he would become to the mech he was today, Megatron would never stop until his destiny was fulfilled - in whatever shape that took.

He stops in the darkened hall, optics still as he waits. Years of training, of pit fights and war - new enemies and peace treaties - a have all prepared him for this day. Alone in the dark with no aid in sight - no one to come to his rescue. He holds himself framed by floor lights and the winding halls, waiting for the inevitable. For the next challenger to try and take what is his.

He almost doesn’t hear the intruder.

Almost.

He dodges left when the blade swings from the right, feeling the breeze of its swing against his shoulder. Faster than he expected. The glint of a gold weapon catching his eye and Megatron’s fists are raised, striking the flat of the blade when it tries again - this time aimed at his throat. The wielder lets out a noise, frustration already getting to him? Too bad. The sound helps Megatron pinpoint the shape in the dark where his optics remain unfocused. A heavy kick to the shadows is enough, colliding with something _large_ and sending it tumbling backwards. The shape better seen now as his attacker falls closer to the light of the halls, gold blade spilling from a red servo.

Megatron moves to charge, intending to put this challenger out for the count but his proximity field goes wild as another shape catches his attention. Tripping over his pedes in a wide spin, needing to stop to catch the silver blade from taking off his helm! The weapon embeds itself deep into his forearm, but not enough to hurt or bleed. Thicker shielding than they expected judging by the wide blinking optics now staring up at him.

“Almost good enough.” He sets his jaw, swinging his arm wide and hurling the swordsmech off him and towards their fallen comrade….who manages to catch the slighter framed attacker before they’re both knocked back to the floor. Impressed as they’re quick to adjust. The smaller one climbing up and pressing a turbine heel into their partner’s palm and Megatron has to act quickly as they are launched in his direction. Their blade thin wings pulled tight in the minimal space, creating a lethal arrowhead of themselves. He only just manages to catch their momentum and feels the blade slice along his pauldron - too close to this throat for comfort.

Enough play. He snarls, ripping the attacker off his body as they let out a distressed noise. Bullied until Megatron has their smaller form in a headlock, trapping the struggling shape and with his free servo catches the larger fist inbound and meant for his face: the strike powerful enough to knock a lesser warrior’s helm clean off.

“Not today.” He chides, twisting with greater strength and the challenger loses footing, slipping on their own poor judgement and Megatron has their arm turned and strained, controlling the bodies of both as they both let out pathetic cries and slap at his arms with desperate pleas.

“I surrender!” One squeals.

“Creator stop! Owwowww!” The larger cries and Megatron releases them both, taking a step back as the two fledglings fall to the ground, chests heaving with overuse and funny faces of mortification.

“Your instructions were to remain unnoticed and attack at the hall’s bend.” He remarks, his children frowning with Starscream’s bitterly thin mouth. “What happened?”

“Titus forgot the plan.”

“No I didn’t!” The larger mech complained, slapping his sister’s oversized wing with the underside of his pede which was nearly half the size of her torso at this stage of his growth. “Vesper told me to attack!”

“It would have worked!” She kelt just to push him back, and despite her slighter stature was perfectly capable of doing so. “You just didn’t listen to me!”

“And who put you in charge?!?”

“I did!”

“CHILDREN!” Megatron’s roar is not always enough to settle their sibling squabbles, but thankfully in this moment it is. Bringing their attention back to him. Megatron shifting his arm where Vesper’s blade managed a decent blow - but not enough to take him down. It was good, but not perfect. And certainly not what was ordered. “What did we learn today?”

“Don’t listen to idiot sisters?” Titus offers.

“That brothers are as ugly as they are incompetent?” Vesper nods and Titus tries to grab her by the wing again.

“Focus soldiers.” Megatron has deepen his voice to keep their focus before another ridiculous fight can start up again. “What we learned is---”

A blade is pressed to his back, tickling the edge above a main fuel line and digging until Megatron’s frame goes rigid. A gentle hiss slipping past his lips as his fledglings look up in brief concern---until the sound of clicking turbines carries. The unseen enemy making his way into sight at Megatron’s left and their children break into wide smiles.

“We learned to not turn our backs until all the enemies are defeated.” Starscream grins before tossing Titus’ discarded blade back to his son. (Vesper catches it of course, always faster. But Titus is stronger and slaps the blade from her hand without a second thought). “You’re such a good teacher Megatron.”

“You weren’t part of this exercise.”

“Another good lesson then? Expect the unexpected.” Starscream brushes past, moving to aid his daughter to stand, checking over her for any unwanted scuffs or marks while she fights the treatment. Satisfied, he moves to Titus who ducks sheepish and yet needy. Happily letting Starscream examine his red armor, looking briefly furious when he sees the smallest dent where Megatron’s pede kicked him over. “You’re too rough with them.” Starscream turns a glare over while Vesper relocates to Megatron’s shadow, pushing into her creator until Megatron rests his servo over her helm. The size of which nearly encompasses her entire head.

“He won’t even let us use blasters.” Vesper argues, pale wings shifting in her own disappointment.

“Last time we let you use a blaster outside of the shooting range, Titus lost an eye.” Megatron reminded and his daughter just stared up at him.

“Oh. Oh no? That’s……..terrible?”

“I want a new sister.” Titus declares and pouts while Starscream tries to buff out a scuff across his jaw with his thumb. His child a head and half a mech larger than him now but still treated as tenderly as when they were no taller than their knees. Tiny things running across Cybertron or the traveled universe as children do. Trailing chaos and fires wherever they would go. Megatron almost missed those times. Small bitlets were easier to manage than nearly grown mechs - and between Vesper trying to sneak out to join the front line or Titus swooning after every pretty face - he was certainly never getting any rest ever again.

“That’s enough now, both of you go get cleaned up. Shockwave will be calling in for your lesson in the hour and - no Titus - Soundclash will not be joining you they are with their creator this evening - I expect you both have your assignments completed? If you don’t I will order this ship to turn around and drop you back on Cybertron and you’ll have to wait another year until we bring you to Thora.”

The twins looked at one another, then at their parents, then back to each other with matching unease.

“You know, maybe it needs a little revision?” Vesper suggests, ducking under Megatron’s arm and back towards the halls while Titus just stands there awkwardly. Abandoned by his sister to his parents expectant stares. At least until Starscream sighs, pats his son’s dark shoulder, and tells him to go.

“Just, keep your sister from blowing up the labs again? I only trust one of you with combustibles.”

“Thank you Sire.” Titus looks proud until Vesper _yells_ his name down the corridor. Demanding him to hurry up framed with threats to his belongings until he had no choice but to follow. His own yelling voice carrying as he went, stomping to catch up.

“I don’t know why he’s thanking me.” Starscream admits with a shrug. “I was referring to his little brother.”

“Sunsiren is only three years old.” Megatron turned on his mate, trying to reconcile the information with what he knew of Starscream’s parental instinct.

“Yes and he shows an exceptional aptitude for complex chemical compounds.” Starscream smiles. Teasing Megatron and allowing himself to be tugged in, encased in Megatron’s hold where he pretends to surrender. Letting him press their brows together, stroke adoring lines down his back and up his wings until Starscream nips his jaw to regain attention. Stop him before they get too carried away.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Starscream’s pale claws come to frame Megatron’s face, examining him with a long stare and a delight Megatron can feel and reciprocate. Their bond now ageless and indefinite. “Just enjoying how---”

There’s an eruption not far from their location and the following alarms ring loud and vicious through the Nemesis. Flaring red lights down the halls and both their sparks strain with panic, tensed in the direction of their children’s retreat until---

[I didn’t do it.] Vesper calls immediately and Titus is already trying to bully his way onto the call to explain that very MUCH she did it and if they liked the western sector of the Nemesis...or if it was replaceable?

“It’s your turn.” Megatron sighs, rubbing his face while Starscream’s head knocks into his shoulder.

“It is absolutely not my turn. I handled the last incident.”

“Which last incident?”

“The incident where YOUR son sent a romantic poem to the Ark addressed to _Perceptor_.”

Megatron goes still, wishing that memory would have just stayed buried deep where he keeps all his repressed thoughts. Like when Optimus Prime MET his children because they picked the wrong planet to teach Vesper how to fly.

“Fine. I’ll go.” Megatron turns to leave, defeated by Starscream’s willingness to bring up terrible - terrible memories just to spite him. “But tonight Siren sleeps in his own room. Tonight you’re mine.”

“Always.”

He looks back at Starscream, the other illuminated in the vicious red glare of warning lights - his pleasant features and ever-wicked smile just a reminder of what he so adores in the untamable seeker. “Now, go ground our children for all eternity so we can make more.”

“Gladly.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's done! Thank you all for reading and all the supportive comments left. Truly that helps alot and I 🖤 all of you.
> 
> If you'd be at all interested in reading more about this budding family let me know. Feel free to follow me on Twitter @ seekingjets


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